Up there, in the brevities
and rifting cloud something
lured my eyes.

For this dog is a blacker black
than a slip moon night, but here,
on this morn, the dim prevails.

And the bending of wet leaves
beneath her paws wager green hope,
but they're brown. I saw them yesterday.

Yesterday, before the rain came winter,
before the now the sea plops
from a rust split gutter onto an ice pick.

But this is what wanders
when a blacker black dog
is hidden in black.

This is what wanders
when wet leaves mute her paws
and I wait, for her.

But up there, in the brevities
and rifting cloud allured,
a dust cut the night briefly.

And briefly, so briefly,
there was a moment assured,
but uncertain as daybreak - I and a dog.