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A Sheepdog In Winter
Inside:
| A Sheepdog in Winter
The snow is deep and he is old In trackless white he strikes |
Sheep are forgetful
creatures. They make mud rushing from feeder to identical feeder seeking perfection of feed; something extra: they are like us. Outside this dirty park, an exhausted sheepdog nibbles the ice between his toes. I shade my eyes against the glare. Whatever will I do when he goes into the dark? For half a mile his outrun is written in snow: his track/his arc of fidelity as bright, as fleeting as he is: as the snow. Donald McCaig |
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