Sleepy gratitude

I am up because the little dog I call my love is begging to smell the outdoors.

These walks are a thrown on dress from the night before, no makeup and morning breath.

I greet the day, he’s instantly tickled. The way he breathes in a plant teaches me about cheap thrills.

We walk on, attempting to steer him, some chatty squirrels catch us, we watch tippy toes along cable lines, jibber jabber in squirrel tones.

They make it across the street and we stop, fascinated. Our eyes meet and there is knowing. How? I don’t know because he is a dog and I, a sophisticated person, and yet…

An inkling of connection and the breeze blowing my dress, half feeling in tune and grateful and half hoping it doesn’t flail above my bare…ness.

Supposing I’m walking my dog alone and yet so very not alone.