The night, still warm
enough to traverse
coatless, the moonlight
almost enough
to see by,
but the old dog
has gotten lost
in it,
circling
an apple tree
in the the corner
of the yard,
a thought’s thought,
that’s deja vu,
but every revolution
she turns
is something new,
her pale fur
faintly lit,
she starts to come
when I call
but gets called back
by some stronger
instinct,
it the scratch,
she the needle,
the song prolonged,
and maddening.
OPTIONAL POETRY 
your poems..amazing..great work…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Made my head spin – in a very very good way! And I feel like that was the intention 😊 Fantastic work.
LikeLike
Thanks, Yusra! The intention, at first, was to get the dog to come inside :p
LikeLike
Hahaha 😊 Poetry often springs from random moments! 😊
LikeLike
absolutely beautiful …
LikeLike
thanks!
LikeLike
Beautiful poem. I love the formatting and use of line breaks.
LikeLike
Thank you!
LikeLike