Welcome to my blog. I share new writing every Monday. 

Residential street, early night

The street light flicks on
marking the start of night.
The dog's long, lolling tongue swings
above the asphalt and
low clouds loosely hang
from rafters in the sky.
The dog has been this way before.
He is ahead, nails tapping, black witches hat ears, up. 
I follow, keeping up, on a lead, slack.

People move behind curtains,
across lighted squares.
We parade without crowd, down the darkening road
the dog, and I
sniffing, striding, watching, panting,
gliding, through the shadowless half-night.
Returning, dampened with sweat, 
to the lighted squares we occupy
in the line.

Counting The Spoons