for days i don’t approach the horn of the cove
where the current sucks and turns uneasily
and i am aware of the guardian boulders
volcanic black sea-knuckled beings slippery

with skins of algal velvet green like anti-grip
until i walk accompanied one slack-tide dim
and under cover before dawn as she appears
and recognizes me through all these years

as she has walked with me uncounted times
the dog perceives exactly why i’m here
and reclines to wait for me as grains of sand
embed unevenly in her salted soot-brown fur

she follows me though i don’t know her name
until we reach the mountains wine-darkened toes
i navigate those with my hands and feet
and we watch them goldened by the rising sun

//