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.
