Nocturne 3, 60X40, John Brosio
In heaven I’ll have all my dogs.
We’ll run together through Horse Heaven Hills
Above Prosser, Washington where the sky
Is blue with small white clouds
And motorcycles and RV’s roll by several miles distance
Along the major road Interstate 82.
We’ll run together through high grass
Or winter wheat.
My German shepherd
Once got away from me and I found
Him running with thirteen chestnut colored
Horses. I called him with fear in my voice
And he came to me through the fence.
Here there will be no fear and no prohibitions;
He’ll be allowed to run with the horses.
I’ll have my small cocker spaniel
My cousin shot, and I regret not
Stopping it. I had set the wheels in motion,
Thinking I was ending his suffering. That was
In the Dark Ages and after Vietnam,
And I was lost between here and there.
He, the cocker spaniel, will be there too
And I wonder if he will still come to me.
The Horse Heaven Hills are supposed
To heal all wounds, supposed to reconcile
Us with our animals, maybe even with sloe-eyed
People from a far land. The tall grass
As a balm.