Dog Days of Winter


On a moon dog night,

The stars were bright. 

And the snow lay white,

All round. 


I fixed my gaze,

On a break in the haze. 

While the runners cut,

With hardly a sound. 


It was -70 and going down,

But I could still feel the heat,

Of each dog's breath,

As they pulled to the beat. 


Of the lead dog's pant,

And his joyful rant,

As he headed for the break,

In the trees. 


I had to make Bryte,

By morning light. 

So I mushed and I mushed.

The dogs with unease.


The lone wolf howl,

And the flight of the owl,

Could not stray them from their course. 

I called to them, one by one,

Until my voice was hoarse.


Cold surrounded me like a curse

But what was worse,

Was chasing from behind. 

Working on my mind. 


There's something about a deep still night. 

A hollowness that sucks you in,

And gives you the kind of fright, 

Dogging me that night. 


So I pressed on, "Mush, mush!"

We turned the snow to slush,

All through that long, dark night,

Until we saw the crack of dawn. 


And we were home.

Warm, fed, and fine.

To curl up by the fire and transpire,

About cheating death one more time.


Copyright 2002 © Ronald W. Hull



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