Shadows

Two dark shadows

drift in and out of the light,

noses to the ground in damp grass,

slipping in and out of sight.


Standing still, small, loud

noises reach me from the

woods as I count the stars.


I whistle and we three

make our way along

the disused drive,

down thirty-three old steps

to a broad field of mud.

 

Across the bridge

the stream,

moonlit in patches,

ripples.

 

So much for woman’s

best friend –

mine have drifted off,

spectres in to the night,

following high pitched sounds,

secret scents and smells.


I button my coat and face

the black trees, mounted,

rising to the clouds.

I whistle and call and wait,

turn to look at the house,

bright windows shutting me out.


Two dark shadows make their way

slowly back to my side,

shaking off their mystery life.

I open and close the gate,

they follow; we are home.

 

moon-3

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