Romey may not hear as well
as she once did, and neither do i,
but how happy she is to hunt
by sight and scent, her pretty tail
swinging as she buries her head
in the frosted thatch of the winter morning
field where secrets live hiding.
Reading is hunting for me, and when i read
i feel a secret just inside my skin
always on the brink of bursting out.
For Romey, the secret is on the outside,
and she is hunting it, as am i.
—with four lines by Tony Hoagland.
