Walking the Dog

“It’s time to walk again” I tell him,
He leaps off the couch
and stretches his legs,
Forepaws extended in front of him
I see his grip expand and contract as he rights himself and
We go out into the night.

A slow walk is best on nights like this
Cool nights, but not cold, Houston cool.
Careful southern breeze slowly saturating.

The apartments are a maze here in the city.
They are a metaphor of escape, and of hiding.
I can’t get out, but why would I leave?

He pulls me around a corner and my eye catches
A glimpse of intense light over the next building
“Wait what was that?” I tell him. He lifts his leg.

“I know it was the moon”, I respond
But there’s just
There’s just no way

Once he’s done my pace increases
I must see this
Could it really be?

Every turn around the maze
Met with another building in the way
I wish I could just leap
Into the black sky above
And prove what I saw

Up just above the building line
City like jagged teeth silhouetted
In front of a Goddess Yellow Moon.

I can’t though, I can’t escape these confines
Turn after turn, a building blocking or
Trees like curtains cover the final bow in waiting

Then a break, ahead 20 paces
I see a soft glow
Does the dog know what I’m after?
I look at him and he nods.

We march forward and find it
Soft yellow light kisses our foreheads
His pupils dilate and I raise my hand
To cover my own and squint at
The rays of a Goddess Yellow Moon

We are adjusted now and soak
In the careful southern breeze and watch
Even though we can only see her
Through a crack between two distant buildings
We are high above the streets now
No leash to tie us down
And we shiver together in the cool,
Not cold, Houston night.