All Ears
(for Dulcie, and her tail of devotion, always wagging for me)
You use my legs as a runway
to join me in the moonlit hammock,
happy despite the complaints I make
as my tender shins are prodded
by the nails I left untrimmed again.
The hickory tree hides us from most
of the stars and the neighbors, so I tell
you my secrets and your long silken
ears are wee elevators of emotion,
flaring and sliding up when they hear
“go”, “ride”, “cookie”, “ love” and “read”;
flattening and going back when you catch
“bath”, “vet”, “cat” and “bedtime”.
You lie on my stomach, queen of all
you see and hear and smell and touch
with those fluffy house slipper feet,
and I watch you, knowing full well
that one day those ears will hear
a final “go” and you'll trade your leash
for wings, and I will be inconsolable.
You already wear a halo,
and have since you first tucked
your golden head into that juncture
between my love and wisdom
that the Beloved finds so enchanting.
I'll treasure every day of grace
I get to share with you, my angel.
2010 © Lorraine D. Achey
