Heel

I failed to see how the black dog

bounds up to you, tail wagging,

wanting to be taken in, petted,

for you to clutch the leash and follow. 

Stroll into the arms of the valley,

the soft decline, ‘til the tree-line

rises above the horizon. 

Fear coming to you as reason. 

I failed to see I’d been bitten

by the same rabid mutt

I’d battled to put down

eight liberated years before.

Until, weakened, panicked,

I abandon a trolley of shopping

in the supermarket aisle

and fight to surface in car park air.

Taking in the sky, feet grounded,

calmly I ask why I failed to see.

Seems old dogs can learn new tricks. 

For once, the old dog wasn’t me.