After Sam,
My eyes, now in a twinkling gaze, survey the forest behind my yard. The snow, dreary in the eerie light creates the magic hour between day and night. I’m looking for Sammy, my dog, out there in the witching hour without me.
Who knows, aside from the gods, where Sammy’s spirit dwells, perhaps he’s right here, waiting for me, outside my door, whispering, “Al come, come walk with me again”.
The other diversions slowly bleed into me, denying pain, moving toward some otherness, but always that part of me lingering " Oh that damn fool rising " deluding myself that Sammy would somehow return from his eternalness.
The sadness washes over me, tears slowly succumb to memory, an image appears of Sammy peering out over the sofa. I know he’s smelling, it’s dinner time. I smile as his huge lumbering body soldiers over to the table, and then, as if by some force of mystery a joyous moment arcs across my soul.