Breakfield Road

(for Jake, 1989-2005)

The briar draws a perfect bead of blood
to tender flesh as my dog pulls his head
from tangled vines and brittle winter thorns.
He shakes and wags but otherwise remains
unfazed by such intrusions. He is quick
to note the next small heap of leaves, to check
the air, the ground, whatever molders there
or ripens here, and he’s been known to stare
at herds of deer for what must seem
eternities. But tails fly up and gleam
white in darker woods, and something’s gone.
At least, my hands ache from holding on
to him while all time runs, two crows scold
a hawk, and daylight turns to early cold.

— Elinor Ann Walker

Photo by Lisa Fotios from Pexels

Next
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE

Trump for Women

Carrie Sheffield

On Wednesday, President Trump signed an executive order titled “Keeping Men Out of Women’s Sports.” It requires…

Give the National Endowment for the Arts Back to the Public

Michael Astrue

For decades, Americans have become increasingly alienated from the American arts establishment. The main source for their…

Pro-Lifers and the Trump Administration: Wins, Concerns, and the MAHA Opportunity

Charles C. Camosy

Anyone with eyes to see and ears to hear knows that the pro-life movements have received some…