A thousand years ago she wandered forests.
Drank from streams, foraged berries
And bedded down between the blades.
Five hundred years later she still wandered.
Drank from abandoned wells;
Foraging through man and natures buffet;
Bedding in discarded barns or coffered pews.
Another five hundred years—today,
Nothing has changed,
But everything is different.
She wanders concrete jungles.
Begs for gruel, dodges spit.
Drinks from fountains;
Rifles trash, claiming them her treasures and
Beds down in alleys, parks or shelters.
In every case, time after time,
By her side, forever watchful for danger
Both from the unknown and others perceptions,
Her furry guide navigates explosive expletives,
Offering comfort and a pervasive sense of home.
© 2012 Sara Coslett