Gladness

I painted a puppy,

small.

And yet

it seemed to keep

looking this way.

I

held out my hand,

then laid it back on my knee.

The puppy

came one step.

Stopped.

One more step.

Its tail

lifted a little.

“Do you know

it's me?”

The puppy

tilted its head.

After I came back

people asked.

Where had I been.

Why had I come only now.

I

chose my words and answered.

The puppy

did not ask.

It came up to my knee.

The tip of its nose

touched the back of my hand.

After a moment

a small tongue

licked my fingers.

I

lifted that hand

and laid it on the puppy's head.

“Yes.”

That was all I said.

The tail

kept wagging.

The sun went down.

The puppy

went home first.

I

looked at my hand.

I went to wash it,

and came back without washing.

I laid the hand

on my knee.

The place

the small tongue had touched

was still warm.