W A L L A C E: A Portrait For Barb Poem by Daniel Brick

Wallace, you are ever in the Present Moment,
while we, your companion humans, get lost on
the downward slope of the Past, or that rare uplift
into the Future. But you summon us back
to backyards and back alleys or to a back court
in which you run wide circles around us, as if
you would fence us in. You are always studying ways
you can run freely, your nose raised high to sniff
the air that promises you the Dog-Wealth we will ever
applaud. It is one-third your fleet freedom and
two-thirds your clinging devotion. No matter how far
pump your legs on lawn or sidewalk or dirt road,
you always circle back to walk at our side to places
we both recognize as our stamping ground.

And in-doors you can practice your vocation
to seek sleep whenever the world seems to be sleeping,
and you stretch out and breathe deeply, until sleep
arrives like a punctual friend and covers your memory
with Dog-Delights. I'm sure you dream of barking
other dogs to submission, of striding proudly next to GiGi,
of making the most out of the hours that begin
with a sneeze of excitement, move with quiet dignity
through dog-day afternoons and into your night sleep,
when you are utterly fulfilled and do not have to dream
of happiness. It is all around you. 'Wuf, wuf, ' you bark
the truth, because this is your time to love and cherish.