Recluse

His dogs rouse to reposition
within a fresh increment of shadow.
They seek his gaze and are reassured
of their existence.

Raglike, they refold into stillness.

At night, flames grip a log’s underbelly
in a scooped corner of random rock and cinder.
A large kettle hisses and spits reptilian.
The smaller dog growls its disapproval,
while the other studies a man face for oracles.

And the man moves out of ritual,
drains the angry kettle into an old dish.

Two dogs watch the waft of steam.
They watch two boots placed side by side,
now agape with tongues lolling, not rivals,
but members of the pack.

The small dog sniffs the paddock on them,
then watches the dish; watches the last bubble,
and laps the surface.

It is a signal for man feet
to crowd the dish.

The dogs are praised by the man,
their high priest, who satisfied with his world,
stares into the flames.
 

Subscribe to Quadrant magazine here…