I don’t have a dog,
so I walk myself
through a whispering field
of winter grass that flashes
every now and then
a seductive glimpse of spring,
as the vast sky offers
to absorb me in blue.
I’m the one
who startles camouflaged rabbits
and sets off the chittering alarm
of prairie dogs,
and sometimes
I must restrain myself
from following hidden trails
or barking at careless people
who drop their trash.
And because I don’t have a dog
it’s up to me
to greet children
and investigate new neighbors,
and occasionally,
when I walk under its midnight brilliance,
to howl at the moon.
~Elizabeth Caldwell Grant
