Downward Fog - Sept 10 2022

 

Downward Dog

Sept 10 2022

The dog's regular breathing

lying at my feet.

Which to me

on a warm afternoon

with nothing much to do

is the sound of contentment

and pleasant domesticity.

The clock ticks

a tap drips

the fridge clicks on.

And I slip into thought,

when I, too, would rather nap.

Ruminate, recriminate, anticipate;

the future and the past

as usual

hijacking my mind.

But this is the human condition,

an animal

with a brain so big

we can barely give birth.

While the brain of a dog

while small

Is mostly olfaction.

Taking in the world

molecule by molecule

with the intimacy of touch;

nose to the ground, exquisitely alert,

tail up, ears perked

as she sharply zigs and zags

tracking precisely.

Where the future is her next meal,

and the past

only back

as far as smell lingers.

The enlightenment

of the downward dog,

breathing easily

on a lazy afternoon

half asleep.

Such unnatural patience

when I suspect she'd rather walk,

content to wait for me

to break my chains of thought.