No Way Around but Through
I walked around the park for two decades
before you came along
showing me a more inward trail.
The copse where the wren mostly prevail,
the spot most likely to pipe with song thrush,
the trees whose boles cupped water for you to sup,
the ridge across the pitch that afforded a dry foot crossing.
You always did a twirl around the goal posts
where we always turned for home.
Your tail sweep-swinging, your stride high-stepping,
sure-footed now on the return leg.
I tried to walk around the park today.
But it's too late for that now.
And so, I let the tears fall
retrace, retrieve and recall
you in your heyday leaping
and in your latter day stumbling
but always bringing me
into the heart of the matter.
MOLLY -2012-2026
Copyright 2026 Cathy Leonard
