My First Day as a Labrador

Early this morning my dog found the tracks of wild turkeys in fresh snow. Vault after vault opened for her. She was standing in the blood and flowers of animal life–so distant from mine, which remains dry. The sun was hardly up. I talked to myself. Spoke dialects of early. Green words. Words to accompany my begging bowl. My dog looked off to the far end of the field. Soft wind. The branches of trees, violent and tender…

Author: stevekuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University View all posts by stevekuusisto