November Fetch

     A thick snow, here crystalline, there a sheaf of thin porcelain, in the corner a
crinoline drift over the chicken wire where cucumbers grow.
     The cold has hollowed out the sky, the fall rain couched around particles of
dirt brought back to my back yard.
     The sound of a plane runs along the hard air, its pristine white belly
empathizing with the earth.
     Lucy, effortlessly balancing an icy lump of sugar on her snout as she
scrabbles for the old soccer ball. Rear hips drawn up, front paws sloping down, taut,
a preposterously long, pink steaming tongue marks the ball once. She jumps, paws
1, 2, 3, 4, jaws, all at once! Again, and again! Until an edge of laminated leather is
subdued by animal heat, she digs in.





About the Author:
Jake Thiessen lives in the center of North America. He enjoys writing while his dog Lucy trees raccoons and nearly caught a bird in midair.