Send-Off

Your old mutt snorts and sniffs, leans

his red hide against my solidness, 

knows the smell of motor oil, Old Spice, and cigarettes has gone. 

Relaxes into the silence of your missing stride beside him,

as I carry the gritty sand of you in a rusty cookie tin. 

Amen, I say and spread you

over the ancient, ornery land you loved. 

Our November Valley wind attends your send off, 

gently lifts you from the granite ground.

Like fog or snow or horses’ breath

you linger In the air;

the seen and unseen, 

the here and there, 

the living and dead

quarrel like siblings 

slinging halfhearted punches. 

The crows you named and tried to catch

honor your changing form, 

eulogize your soul beyond the sentinel hills, 

laugh at the late fall gusts that carry you

carry you

© Michelle Stoll, 2021 

Image from Wikimedia Commons