This Cold January Night

Sirius is looking straight up at Orion,

wondering why he’s not in the hunt.

He wants to run the ice and snow.

He wants to please the heroic hunter,

and leave this underworld above the Earth.

 

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In a Cold Wood

dog woods

A dog finds me resting roadside here

in the woods. He is all energy.

Collared but unleashed, he sniffs – finds me

boring and old – and launches forward again.

I pull up my collar. It’s cold.