Puppy Ponderings
Awakened in the middle of the night by a puppy's plaintive cry
I stumble and shuffle through the darkened house towards the crate.
The only illumination available to me trickles in from the street lamps.
Every lumpy thing I pass seems to be a dog in some sort of frozen pose.
Slowly, like mist rising from a lake at dawn, a thought forms in my head:
That can't be true.
Foggy, groggy, I guide the wee pup outside to pee.
Our mission completed, we return to our own warm beds,
settling back in for whatever dreams might come our way.
Now it's morning, and as I amble, clear-eyed, through my home
I can plainly see the lamp, the step stool, the pillows;
just hours ago they were puppies. Sort of.
Oh, how our minds love to create stories for us from what we see.
Or think we see.
Especially when we reside in that soft space of not awake, not asleep.
Where logic and fantasy blur their edges together, melting into a new world
of possibles and maybes.
