Linda

POETRY IS WHAT THE SOULS OF THE ANCIENTS SPEAK TO THOSE STILL SEEKING WHAT IS MOST BEAUTIFUL IN THE WORLD. FROM: LINDA

Wednesday, April 29, 2020

Thank you to the editors of Trouvaille Review for publishing this poem today.

https://www.trouvaillereview.org/home/hunting-in-packs-by-linda-imbler



Hunting In Packs by Linda Imbler

During winter
darkness hides Heaven.
Once-white clouds
spread like a thick duvet.
The empty park,
seen from my window,
the sky above
as gray as river stones worn smooth.
From out of the gloom,
the dogs came,
with matted fur, 
coiled tight as dangerous serpents.
Canines, full of pep and bark,
paws worn down,
flat as a wooden floor.
Ears perked,
eyes still shining,
heads moving side to side.
Each one heard
their master’s call
on that dreary day.
They’re working to find
their way back
to what they
loved most.
Each dog dreams
of its own home,
even while in a pack.
The whole keeping their swift pace, 
as each hunts for that special place.

No comments:

Post a Comment