Voice of the Dog (in Rain)

It says many things "the wind
is wet, the food is gone,

I'm chained- release me."

There is nothing like forlorn
as it moves through night

cracking like a whip.

When we were born
the darkness asked,

"what form, which vessel,
what seed, this flower?"

How carefully we live
escaping knowledge,

learning how to gallop
when the fences

fall apart.

From a distant yard,
a voice repeats its sorrow

tonight, in tongues
like water

as the rain
pours down.