Wolf-Dog

Mostly wolf

he was unlike other dogs,

the fully doggy. He was

wind-woven movement

hunter-quiet through trees, 

cat-contained self-sufficiency,

deep-loving, soul-faithful

but not puppy-exuberant,

not wriggly-jerky hysterical. Never.

His distance-speak

sustained me many months.

We had good mind-talk between us:

we two heart-kin, spirit-friends

who summoned each other

with immediate vision-share

instant thought-meld, the knowing

of the vast, timeless forever-abyss

from which we'd sparked into life-light.

He wasn't my dog; there was

one dearer, skin-close, the friend 

we shared and in our own ways guarded.

It's a long time ago now, 

far-dwindling yet never full-gone. 

Not wholly done, dead-over.

Though he is dead of course,

and our man-friend older,

well happy. He is horse-master now.

Me, I love cats. And we both have known 

some other dogs. We never speak 

of that one, heart-deep, unique.

The night-road, the moon-path

along which he reached me

with loving mind-touch

has taken him elsewhere,

gone in the other direction.

He did return just once

to tell me the way of it,

his death-fall. Though I had already

felt it, from too far away.

Photo Copyright © David Mikulenka 2007. Not to be reproduced in any way without written permission from the copyright owner.

Note: 'Mostly wolf' – he was 75% small timber wolf, 25% domestic dog.

This poem was written for the kenning prompt at 'imaginary garden with real toads'. Kenning is the creation of compound nouns. I have created a few compound adjectives here, too (which seems to be easier) and used some compound nouns which already existed.