Closer to the Ground

no one person can claim

they spent their life with my dog dill.

not me, not his best friend Laurelei

who waited up ahead to pounce

and nibbled at his skin like corn.

not my brother who rescued him

and gave him to me, to be

closer to the earth, as dogs tend to like.

i have wondered if even dill has been

along for the whole ride, if he thinks

when looking at himself in the mirror

and in old photographs

“i cannot believe it is the same.”

so when it comes time to say thank you

there will be a long line of words like these:

from pam, whose canyon bottom howling sent

echos through our houses as dill cried for us to come home.

from her, whose affections bled like drops from a torn ear

the neighbor dog made, the first one to truly love him.

from durango, whose frigid muddy waters chilled his grin

and wove trails to run on, ever slower.