The lake was still,
a pewter sheet of light.
Steam rose from the grass,
the kind of calm
that keeps me from speaking.
Then barking split the silence.
The dog had found it,
a gray hiss of mange,
and fear pressed to the shed wall,
eyes wide, teeth set,
the scene alive with violence.
I watched too long,
letting the action and drama shake the leaves,
like some lazy god of fences and mistakes,
before pulling him back,
putting him in the house.
Silence returned slow as fog.
The lake shone, innocent again.
Later I found the broken board,
the herbs chewed down to dirt,
and knew it was my doing-
the breach, the chase,
the morning that would not stay kind.