After a week of rain, we are grateful to get outside
and the dog, let loose in the park, races from tree to tree,
catching up on all she’s missed. Head lifted as if to howl but, no,
she is tasting the air, delicious with messages.
Rock to rock, she sniffs and roots, hair of her belly darkening with wetness,
grasses reaching up and fur reaching back down as if in agreement.
Last night’s raindrops tremble on pine needles, one shake and they’ll fall,
but for now they’re held in suspension; expectant.
She is searching for the past, tracking the paths of animals gone,
absorbing where they once were, where they are no longer,
where they paused to look up at the sky
or waited out the storm tucked in layers of sodden leaves.
Home, I try to dry her off but she resists the towel,  
her body vibrant with untamed histories.  

Published in Fixed & Free Quarterly