CLOUD’S GIFT

 

 

 

Soft to etched

In rising mist,

Down

The dawn path,

She came

Swift,

Fast,

On padded paws.

Her dog-life hurled

In a hail of goal.

As if—-

Her treasure were

A joy-gift.

On my boots 

She dropped

Her catch,

Scooped from

The bramble roots—-

A tiny, screaming,

Rabbit kit.

Bleeding,

Its fleet heart

Stopped.

And Shocked,

My canine peace

Flooded

In grief,

As Cloud

Happily wagged

Her tail.

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