Breath

Front door open, summer evenings
To catch a cool breeze
After the sun goes down

Every once in a while
The dogs bark and bristle
And we listen together
Then go back to what we were doing
My book, their naps

Two or three times a week
A slight whiff of skunk
On the night air

Each of us
Is carried on the breath of the world
Following the rise and fall
Of the mother’s breast
Skunks a part of it all, too
Making their rounds

Turning the wheel


by Frank Vehafric