She licks my ear

I stand with the little dog

I stand with the little dog
in our side yard, full moon
a foggy smear above us.
Across the lane a hundred people
live their lives, every window
its own diary, open
then not. Someone hunched
draws near, passes in darkness,
someone talking to the air
crosses at the corner,
under the streetlight
the boy on his bike again,
a man with a hand
on his back. Noise
from the high park, 
revellers break into song,
someone juggles balls that glow,
a clump of dark hoodies suddenly
passes close. I talk to the dog
in a high voice hurry up. 
Cars stop at the curb
then rev and move on. Laughter
as a couple walks by.
The hunched man again
with his cart of bags.
The little dog startles
at the squeal of its wheels,
at the rustling of cans.
Tonight's not the night
for good dog, dark as it is
and leaf strewn while inside
my piano waits. "Let's
try again later, shall we?"
I murmur as I pick
her small body up
and head inside. She licks
my ear.

---

So many poems about the animals that have shared their time on earth with me! This little doggy is seven months old now but we’ve already been together always.