The Glint
Our dog’s been missing for weeks. We searched the fields, walked the arroyo, called for him until our voices gave out. Then stopped.
Last night, I laced up my hiking boots and walked out into the dark. No plan, just the need to burn off a long day. And there it was, at the edge of a neighbor’s field: the gleam of a vaccination tag, his still form curled in a drift of thistle, head tilted, muzzle frozen into a grin—bringing him back for a moment, letting him go again.
boundary mark...
coyotes testing
a rising moon
contemporary haibun online 22.1, 2026
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