Searching - Oct 23 2026

 

Searching

Oct 23 2026

I am looking for a small orange ball

in a tangle of brush

in a crush of overarching trees.

Roots underfoot

claw at my feet.

The slope is uneven

ground soft

and light not for long

as the evening sky darkens.

The dogs, who have lost the scent

race excitedly,

tracing rough circular paths

with their noses to the ground

and ears pinned back,

at times

leaping like tightly sprung cats

ambushing prey.

On 4 graceful legs, they seem to levitate

over dense scrub

rotting logs

and through the thick scrim of branches

sprouting from the ground.

If not guided by some 6th sense

then by the grace of a god

who watches over the innocent

— the young children

and dumb animals

who can’t fend for themselves

and don’t know any better. 

While I am earthbound

and not so innocent,

slipping, tripping, and mincing my way,

ducking under branches

and bulling through the overgrowth. 

I watch, they smell.

But in the dark, they see better than me,

and their superhuman noses

work just as well.

So while I concede,

they were born to retrieve

and will run until their hearts explode;

single-mindedly

relentlessly

and sometimes even recklessly.

Because to my dogs

who live in the perpetual now

a small orange ball

well-chewed, and covered in slobber

is all that matters in the world

the meaning of life.

Something I’ve been searching for, most of mine.