Elizabeth Erickson Poem #1 March
Nightly Training
My three-legged dog floats
On coyote queries
Rain taste dark sage resins.
Rising on dusk wind gusts,
Strung between mud and stars,
His nose drinks a river.
“Come in, you!” I call.
Grounded, his black eyes snap,
He
shrugs, “Come in, you!”
Beautiful! I especially enjoy the interior "rhymes" of "dog, dark, dust, drinks."
ReplyDeleteThanks Lynette. I want to go so much further with this poem and can almost imagine Nickole saying "say more about why you know what dog was thinking!"
DeleteLooking forward to helping welcome your March poem.