Stickers

I picked stickers
from the black pelt 
of my dog.  Between
dirt, rock and fir
were small seeds
poking her in the belly.

She was calm, uncomfortable
on her side as I held her,
I gathered small figures,
like pieces to a jacks game
before the knots grew
any bigger.  Waited for
the ball to bounce,
my next turn.

I found her there, wild
grass matted. A
white crane landed in
the creek, next to us.
I saw it walk on 
reeds, the weight
of a bird supported
by grass.  It caught a fish,
and looked at me, the 
instinctive shimmy of 
an animal in it’s beak.

My dog let out a whine,
I watched white wings 
fade into sky.