Sunday, June 7, 2009

Sage on a warm gray day

She was up one of the sandy paths

By the road, a tiny red solitary

Staring-out to catch the slightest

Rabbit-flutter in the brush.

I shouted, “Sage,” and waved

And saw her see me, and come

As she does, running.

The day had been grayer

Than the last time and a truck

Was stuck in the river sand.

When we passed by they

Kept their heads down

So we wouldn’t see

Their foolishness.

There had been no

Rabbits to see either,

Till we passed by

And Sage saw the one

Till I called “Sage”

And she came running;

Then we drove home

And they settle down

On blankets, and I got

Some music playing

And a book to read.

I looked down to see

Her sleeping there and thought,

“Sage” -- and she came running.

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