by Sawyer Hitchcock
I was running —
Eyes open and large to the slanting sun enchanting the blueness and the green.
(it was only an hour ago!)
I was running and feeling the soles
Of my feet rebounding elastic against the street: the hard hard concrete.
Smooth and whole, strong, complete: a rhythm, strong along the street.
And there on a driveway: a golden dog!
An old dog he seems, and so golden!
Long long drifts of yellow hair sift soft waves along his strong back.
He sits upright —
But so loose! and dangling pink tongue all aslack in panting wag. . .
Grand and aloof: a yellow mass relaxed,
Spilling on sure haunches like a golden puddle.
Such a heavy beast: panting and surveying: sagging and still: still, at his ease.
I was running and I saw him! —
He turned to watch me as I passed, panting.
He only moved his yellow head.