"Dogs are our link to paradise. They don't know...jealousy or discontent. To sit with a dog on a hillside... is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring--it was peace." ~ Milan Kundera
Beneath the tickle of dogwood branches
And scuttling blossoms
I nestle my bliss into the fur of my love
Watching him lap up regurgitations
Of our scenic affections
Under the pallor of moonbeams
Counting paw prints in the form of crushed grass,
I wondering if he sees
The dawn of a new day just as clearly
As I do
His muzzle says much
… of nothing
Just unrolls a scroll in lolling pants
That licks letters from the crevices of my mouth
Sun crowns from the womb of madam earth
Painting twilight with fiery hair folicles
And I can no longer see our world
In black and white
Palms stroke his belly in pretense
That all is the same
Not forever changed
But his snout catches truth in my pores
And he sneezes it away
I can do nothing as he gathers himself on his hind legs
And struts off from our little hill of heaven
For the temperature in my bones differs
And will find no solace in a tail
Coiled around my waist
Or a muzzle burrowed in the crest of my neck
But I long for those arctic moments
When only his coat I placed on my skin
Where my paradise lie in his fleece
Where his company was my peace
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