Poemdog

Dogs 2019

CONTRASTS OF LIFE
(3/30/19)


I brush
my hoary head
every morning

my reflection
a little grayer

a little
thinner

each
day

I watch
the fur
fall

white
on the dark
counter

dark
on the white
sink

odd

I sweep
a bit
of the frosted
fallout
from the tile
to the
porcelain

sure enough

the gray
turns
to black

as if all
of this aging
is an illusion

I finish
my preparations

step out
into the world

seeking
a lighter
background
of existence