Then there are the questions of the body.
What holds it together? What falls
Apart? All of us are faltering, all
In our own ways going rough and shoddy:
My love’s arthritic foot and knee; my back
Doubly ruptured, and I was only sitting down.
But these two—they don’t think to complain.
They just keep their noses to the track,
Tracking delights of passage, every smell
Of every passerby bearing the now
Along in its delicious ripeness, enough.
Could it be enough for us? Leave well
Enough alone, I always say. He says
Every dog has her day every day.