On the rise of wind she sniffs,
nose twitching as it follows what I cannot
though I see excitement,
lithe leaps into frosty air, her shadow
dance among leaves that crunch crisply
beneath my feet – nearly silent under hers

flying gazelle-like over log and under branch
squirrel-bound – as I, earthbound, walk
my spirit soaring free with hers; the brilliant
orange about her neck gleams leaflike
flitting free in circles, swirling, entire
treefall tumbling at once, twirling
down; yet she runs, runs circles,

returns, fleet and frisky, impatient
for each new moment as if she could swallow
entire seasons in one gulp, she glides, gallops
points, returns, endless and effortless in her work,
this work of play in mid-autumn woods,
midway between summers’ light
and winter’s dark, in this late afternoon
glow of setting sun settling
into calmer pace, one she’s not yet
ready to receive; while I recall my
younger Self, revel in remembered bounce
of youthful vigor and delight in autumn’s
edging amber light.

swb