The White Thing On The Street Poem by RIC BASTASA

When i arrive home this morning
she is already there waiting by the gate

she has grown old with hair uncut
and she is stunned
for a moment when i get down from the car

perhaps she cannot believe that i am home now
not having seen me for months

she finally verified a scent of myself
from a distant air
and she dances wildly on the street
like a bagel upon
a whirlwind

happy to see her again
i take her inside my arms
and in this friendship
deeper than
a certain level of humanity
we keep things to ourselves
this joy and bliss
without having to waste
any word.