Limping Dog

Mead
62 So. Allen #3
Albany, NY 12208
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Limping Dog

Hear his tag, frantic
Jangle &; the clack clack of paws?
He's in a hurry, mad black fur blur
Among house shadows, among
Oblivious traffic?
Up that side of the street, now
Down, behind?

Will he bite?
Let petting happen?
Give any inkling to these pausing feet,
These hands which stretch forth
Though wary of touch?

His eyes don't look up, ears never
Perk as, although injured, he skirts
'round, he rushes off.

I have known saints like this.
All walls resound with their palms,
All craft, all work humming
Past the completion which exists still,

A vision the wounded aren't too busy
For the glory of still