Vagabond Dog

Long after panhandling hour is past,
he sits beside the worn shoes of his homeless companion.

His canine eyes blurry from boredom,
gaze at the encroaching dark.

A distant bark raises his ears.
A friend?
A pal?
Another like me?

Probably not.
Those like me pass in the day,
occasionally curling up on the opposite corner
while their transient buddy safety-loops the leash around his ankle,
holds up their tattered sign: “Anything will help,”
nods to us “over-traveled” street wonderers,
acknowledges we carry no sign, just a cup,
and smiles at us and his passersby.

Afterwards…

We vacate our corner, count the cup’s change,
rifle through a few trash cans for cans and bottles,
trod off to the abandoned building we call our place,
and bed down on our cushy rag and torn mattress bed.

Such silence now. My ears seem forever perked,
listening for peaceful sounds of night,
the tree-leaves rustling their late night wind songs,
the occasional owl’s hoot in the woods beyond,
or a wanderlust cricket letting us know the night is good.

Sadly…

The street lamp outside
is forever casting shadows
that won’t go away.