Obedience

The dog lifts her head
from the piles of dead
leaves, and at first she
is calm, until she is not.
She can't find me. Not
behind the cypress or
the still-bare viburnum.
Betrayer, I am watching
from the window. Warm
behind the doorframe.
What is it to be wholly
loved like this? God,
how desperate she is
to find me. Walking
toward her, I watch her
whole body vibrate
when I come into focus.
I lift her into my arms
because it is what
I want. Who doesn't want
to hold their individual
god, to be redeemed by
pleasing the only
one you serve?