Animal, Human, Tree

He hasn’t walked all week.
Tonight
four little legs agree,
march the lawn
and looming street

At the corner
his face surveys
the evening’s offering.
Sniffs the potpourri
of animal, human, tree

Behind our neighbor’s house
the sun descends, dusts
gold onto
his honeyed fur,
failing eyes

His gaze meets mine—gentle
surprise—as if to say:
This is all good,
it’s very good.
Then

things I had stopped seeing, shine:
his creature-kind expression, regal stance,
twilight’s water-colored page,
the leaving leaves
that chime

I choose the long straw
of forgetting—
his kidneys weak, doorbell not heard,
uneven gait
leading him where I won’t be

Earth rights itself
for darkness.
I wait
to carry him
in case it’s what he needs

Lisa Romano Licht’s poetry and other work has appeared in Blue Heron Review, The Westchester Review, San Pedro River Review, Steam Ticket, Mom Egg Review, Ovunque Siamo and elsewhere, and was selected for The Year’s Best Dog Stories 2021 and Vita Brevis Press’ Nothing Divine Dies, both anthologies. She holds an MA in Writing from Manhattanville College and lives in Rockland County, New York with her husband. This poem was inspired by her beloved late dog Skye. Find her on Twitter:@LRLwrites.

Header image: Skye