This day all the beloved dogs
are returning, called by silent whistles,
slipping under the backyard fence
of Heaven, fluffy fur and sinews,
that good doggy smell, mouth slobber,
paws recording treasures of the earth:
cow pastures, muddy creeks,
deep woods, the promise
of new birth one month away.
For unto you they come,
harbingers of all you think can never
be again, but look what
they are laying at your feet.