In What We Trust (4)

[TranquillityBase]

In What We Trust

Good ole Buck was a bear
of a dog, an all black shepherd
with a small white tie on his chest.
On an early autumn evening
we sat on the side porch
of my brother’s house, looking out
on the clearing between the woods.

I think he was listening to the last
of the crickets, smelling the dusky
richness of the first fallen leaves,
as he gazed with pointed ears toward
something I couldn’t quite see.
His gentle orange eyes reflected           I'm with you until these lines, where it almost takes on a fairy tale quality
the crescent moon, and he smiled
(I’m sure of it) while seeming to ask,
“did you smell that? Hear that?”
I did not- but I could feel it.

In this anthropocentric world         Then we jump to this very different tone, though I think it's a great stanza except for last line.
that we pass through, I find it
interesting that we ascribe human qualities
to just about anything- hands in branches,
faces in clouds, Jesus in pancakes.
My God. Are we really created
in Your image, or You, in our imaginations?
But we are not what this is about.    This feels dismissive toward the reader.  That's a pretty big question you just laid on us.

It's about an animal; one particular animal:
whose image was he created in?
Just a simple dog, so obviously attuned
to something I half-heartedly have faith in.   I almost want this to be the last line....
I know you think I’m foolish;
blasphemous even, or maybe just
confused.  Yet I’m certain of that night
on the porch, and I remember it often 
since we buried him by the brambles
in my brother's yard, nearly 40 years ago.    .......but I wouldn't want to lose this.

Hi Mark,

Very affecting poem.  Hope my notes make some sense.

TqB