I head out on this path.

Our dog pulls at her leash

as if she knew where she was going.

Each leaf, each patch of grass

receives her full attention;

each tuft of her fur vibrates joy.

In division, the line cuts

the whole into tidy parts:

each equal to a degree.

After returning home,

I scratch down a line,

quickly, before I let go.

I’m often short of breath these days,

gasping after air like a dying fish.

(December 30, 2021)