No New Tricks

A warm hand falls

On age softened ears

The low thump of a heavy tail

A brief lick from a graying muzzle

Man and beast heave a synchronized sigh

Do you remember, Man says

Those days in the marshes

That green and brown spattered burlap blind

Those hours spent crouching in muck and bramble

Hoping for good luck?

Dog remembers.

He can feel the mud between his toes

Hear the crack of the rifle

Feel the warm plump bird in his mouth,

Feathers that still tickle at his throat.

The weight of Man’s hand at the top of his head

Before ruffling his ears.

Man knows there will be hunts again

Many more hours spent crouched

Nestled amongst the reeds

A silent companion by his side

But for now

There is this porch

A steady heartbeat beside

Yards of shared moments stretched out behind

Gossamer threads stitched between

Memories thumping in his chest

As Dog’s tail thumps echo

Man and beast sit together

Watching the sunset.