In Honoring Awe

There is a dog

who will die soon.

The waning hours

are upon us.

She isn’t much

in stature or fuss,

but her presence

can be felt,

throughout this country house.


I clean,


and write about her,

because a creature

with such dignity,

who is straining

without complaint,

compels me to feel,

an honoring awe.


As she looks me in the eyes,

through the glaze

of her waning hours,

I feel that life,

breathing now as it does

through this diminutive canine,

is always calling me

to pay attention,

with unapologetic commitment,

and without complaint,


honoring awe.



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