Hunger

Silence at midnight

When the world is asleep

Except for the geckos, my dog and I,

And the lone plane in the distant black sky.

Fingers reach, stealthily into the box,

Half ashamed, then again, not ashamed.

The telltale rattle, the swift pouring;

I sit. And he sits, beside me, brown, intense and awake

In the sleeping darkness;

Brown ears cocked, eyes trained,

Tail thumping methodically.

We eat together, I from my bowl, and he

The spoonfuls I throw at him.

We share the meal, and the togetherness and aliveness

In an unconscious world.

He does not know the meaning

Of qualitative research and causation and correlation

And grounded theory and phenomenology.

But this he understands.

And oh, yes, so do I.

So do I.

 

photo credit: pixabay.com

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