startled by the fight
in a diseased and dying body
I sit over her
looking through fogged eyes
recalling a slice of heaven
on a little tributary
of the raging Santiam –
cheek high pasture weeds
brushes a five year old face
as I nearly tunnel after long tan legs
sunshine and pit bulls
a covey of quail and
the old ****** pelt drying plywood
cut in the shape of a giant stop sign
a bedded down doe crashes through an Oak thicket
as our adventure continues –
lazy afternoons of swimming in the creek
chasing tree frogs
and picking wild flowers
fill my pre pre-school memories
as I stare
and wait for her to take another breath –