the parable of the leash
I was keeping the dog from freedom, I know it, and though the walk
was good for both of us – fresh air, communion with the earth –
his deeper wanderlust was made evident by the frequent choke
the collar gave when he sped forward. The leash between us was a berth
of good distance, but it wasn’t quite enough for him, the way his snout
kept lurching him toward jittery squirrels, a house cat
nestled innocently on her front porch, some other intrepid pooch out
on his reined-in exploration. I felt the tug inside myself, too, that
inkling of daring to choose instinct over the well-trod path, the careful border.
The dog kept pulling, vigorous with questions. For him the comfort lay in the disorder.