When the dog scratches at sunshine,
what does she hope to find? Is she,
could she be, after its brightness
what it might, this lightness, what it could bring
to mind, those thoughtful, or less, things forgot,
gone far and thought lost. If she brought,
would she bring them, or
a piece of them back, not so much to savor, but
maybe to reconsider: At what we'd been,
if being was even then, more or less.
And in all of this, had she
missed it, should she miss, and see the way past,
the sign it meant: the glint that pauses
paws ready for, and before, causes that leap ahead.
