His eyes brim with the patience of his vigil.
Time hangs like heavy pendants from his ears.
His dewlap spreads like some contorted hill
Of larva, frozen for a thousand years.
He will lie here quite motionless until
The door is opened, and the man appears.
And when the man appears, the waiting dog
Will leap, and bark, and sniff, and thrash his tail,
Delirious with happiness, agog
That life continues, and will flail
Like porpoises and wrap himself like fog
Around his master’s legs, and howl and wail.
The man, recalling how he’s spent his day,
May simply touch his head, and walk away.
