SHY BLONDIE by Patricia Crandall

In the first heavy snow
of the season, perhaps
agitated by a full November moon,
lured by the call of the wild
so natural to her husky breed,
sprinted away.
As I donned my winter garb and
searched for her, all tracks were
obliterated by light, fleecy flakes.
Robins not yet flying south
were noncommittal.  A migration
of geese cried out overhead
obliviously.  Still, I knew
Blondie would curl up shyly
at the back door.
On the third day,
I buried my arthritic hands
in the soft fur of her neck.
Large, almond eyes measuring love
looked at me, reassuring
all was with good reason.

By Patricia Crandall


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