Friends Who Sit
Good old Buck.
The black lab’s warm body pressed against my shins
As I balanced a bottle in my lap on the front porch.
Usually, he’s slobbering all over my jeans.
Today he was gracious.
Of a strong tree stood against the starry sky
While fireflies surprised the shadows in between.
There aren’t many friends who sit
When there are no words to say.
But she knew
What I faced because she sat so many times before
When clouds covered stars and fireflies stopped dancing.
One day had passed since I left a relationship in ruins
To heal myself.
I pulled my legs up,
Crisscrossed them on the padded wicker chair.
Long breaths spoke peace into the night.
We sipped our drinks and listened
To cricket songs.
Buck stood up,
Circled around his invisible bed and lay down,
Resting his head on his paw. One tired eye looked
At me, ready for sleep after chasing
All those chickens.
Cover image by Ken Reid.