The call of Red-bellied wood peckers pierce the morning
As the focal sphere pierces the dawn,
The distant caw of my friends, the crows,
and the closer deep squeak of the nuthatch
as it heads downward on the dark trunk of a lichen-covered oak.
This morning I knew I needed to hurry if I wanted to beat the rain, so I dressed quickly, grabbed a couple cameras, and a chair then almost sprinted up the small hill in the field arriving just in time to welcome the sun.
Setting my chair beside the small impression where, beneath several feet of dirt, lay Peach, eternally sleeping on her flannel-covered dog bed surrounded by her toys and stuffed animals, I relaxed knowing good things would follow.
I thought of Peach, a long lost friend, who gained her name when I misunderstood my daughter as she tried to call the new puppy "Petrie." The name fit her though, for soft and sweet she was, lounging by the side of her family as only a hound can do. That relaxed, body would stretch the length of a bed, hiding the potential energy which easily could outrace a car or my husband chasing her after planning to lock her in the house while we attempted a family outing, leaving her behind.
Many mornings I had sat at this very spot with Peach leaning against my thigh as we watched the world together.