Your old dog stopped jumping
the wall
that led to the grassy path,
he stood gazing at it, eager eyes, and gazed at you,
you helped him jump from the exact spot
where you watched his sprightly leaps
for years,
you raised him a bit and pushed him up,
he happily sniffed on.
Later he stopped gazing at the wall.
You passed by the spot his paws had sprung from
and listened to the air
vibrant with absence,
a rush now gone.
Now you just watched
your young dog jump, same air, same spot,
felt the warm breath crossing the cold,
the arc at your side, the swish of the legs.
A flash
of the re-entered stream in the paws.