Wild at heart
Then all is silent, and the snow
falls, settling soft and slow*
Few things can make me smile like the sight of Pushka, our husky, in the snow. On a day like today age, infirmity and inevitability are easily forgotten.
There's little of her twilight to be seen as she stalks and sniffs, pounces and pauses, hunting along scent trails I'll never have the senses or sense to see. As the snowflakes fall she's a puppy again, the weight of age and old bones lost for a while as she adventures through the world she was born for.
I sat on a bench in the meadow and let her play till my cap turned white and and our footprints were faded away.