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Poetry and Medicine
March 6, 2013

Season’s Show

JAMA. 2013;309(9):857. doi:10.1001/jama.2012.47929

The air bites
At my fingers
Curled around the lead
Of my aging dog.
Our morning walks
No longer the frantic race
Of youth.
Summer's mugginess
Abruptly relieved
By a crisp breeze.
Half of summer's plans
In a messy heap.
The trees, however
Flow with time.
This season's show
Complete with sound
As dried out, colorful shells
Resisting the wind.
Her senior hips sore
And stiff, crouch
Over that perfect place for
My knees ache as I collect
The prize.
Our errand complete,
Time to get back—
My partner soldiers on.
A gray squirrel taunts.
Itching for prey she begs:
“Forget what's safe!”
We jump into the moment;
And recklessly join chase.
A curb misjudged.
Out-of-synch paws land
Her nose-first.
Eyes sparkling, bodies
We hobble home together.
No regrets.

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