Dogs in the Elephant Village

Every one of us, a dog in the elephant village.
Eager to go, to be of use, to be part of the mysterious
indigo and grey movements of the day.
We scrabble with each other.
We lie in the bright road and wait because the
returning is sure, or unsure.
We have babies. We don’t.
We sit at the table of plenty and beg, wide-eyed.
We get to the end, not necessarily understanding
the trumpeting in the forest or the strangers’
coming and going, but the grateful tongue hangs
long in the heat.

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