i heard the dog star calling last night-
following my grandmother’s path, i took to the ridges of Appalachia {the dogwoods are blooming, the honeysuckle is ripe} fragrant the trail and quietly the earth is turning towards the Dog Star- I am turning
with arms raised. The fretting is past. I am a Hero following the Summer, following the path my grandmother laid, towards the mountains rich with life, with learning. The dog star rises- what is home,
asks the Dog- but chasing the path Grandmother Rabbit made?