Finny Cora

Finny Cora

Finbar bolted down a big breakfast
and walked with his best human
to the green
where he had his morning poop–
on the way back twenty paces from home
all four feet
went out from under him . . . heart gone that mercifully quick

Cora outlived her mate
by three years
slowing down
. . . and down . . . and down . . . and down . . .
arthritis in the hips
eyes dimming to a halting gait
and then the tumor–she had those years and paid at the end

I think of Finny alive
like a racehorse
propelled
up the hill by the sheer runaway joy
of hunting squirrel

and Cora at the pond
charging fullspeed out the dock
up over the water
feet splayed to the four points of the compass
to a crashing splashdown–
swimming to the far side
and running back
around the bank to the dock
full throttle out into the water again
. . . and again . . . and again . . . and again . . .