The stray dogs
huddle in packs, gathered
like galaxies, ravenous
like black holes.
Canine brigands,
prowling, growling,
the dog star is their star,
their mentor the cresting moon.
All orphans,
all had mothers
and all had human masters
who turned on them
and turned them out.
Now like their ancestors
they are free,
tribal covenants bind them
for survival
and they straggle in the night,
and they struggle in the night,
half-breeds, evicted from the human realm,
creatures in perpetual flight,
singing in the cold moonlight.
Hi Sunny! well some stray dogs, bark at the wrong door, is my experience. Great write. Smiling at you, Tai
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hi Sonny! Another excellent Write deserving of a (10) ! ! ! Thad