The white chops of my dog's legs flash
as she trots ahead of me -
she revels in her freedom
despite the signs instructing those of us who walk the trails
to keep our dogs leashed.
She darts to one patch of leaves
then to a stand of grass
all beneath the shade of oaks
and maples
and hemlocks -
her snout to the ground
and snuff-snuff
before she is off again
experiencing a layer of reality I am cut off from -
a fourth dimension I have no senses to perceive.
But,
her joy becomes my joy as I watch
and I am unleashed
and find I can smell the disturbed mulch
and I can hear the rustle of the wind
and I feel the hand of the sun on my cheek
as I pass between the solidity of the trunks.
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