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Following fox tracks through
The lands in between
I hear, I smell, I feel
A warning, but I know it is false.
I have nothing to fear.
I cut up my dog's old bandana,
Which I love very much,
The old, ratty, stinky thing.
I let it float away on the wind
Just one or two pieces
Every day.
A steady trot
Just like the fox.
It's a prayer, and an offering.
There will be more bandanas,
And I will cry again.
But the salty water will mix
With the dirt
Where a tree will sprout
So tall its leaves
Brush the heavens.
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