Sometimes

Having a dog roots me.
Sometimes
like feet in gumbo
the suction so strong
if I walk
my foot slides out
of the stuck rubber boot
and lands splat
back in terra muck

Having a dog roots me
Sometimes
like the strength
of hundred year oaks
made patient by the grasp
of ancient acorn
reaching through its leathery shell
for life and the love of dirt

Or like the extendable leash
keeping us connected
Hard to tell who’s walking whom
but the red woven strap
gives and takes
keeps us both secure, entwined
Together

She roots through blankets,
garbage, and my heart.
Sometimes
she blankets my heart
and roots out the garbage.

Having a dog roots me
Sometimes
I circle three times
before sighing to sleep
Letting go of
the leash
the muck
the grasping