Walks
I grab the lead and I grab the bag.
We leave the house, one walking fast, one trotting slow.
The bitter cold hits my face
As my small dog drags me,
The street lights aglow.
We’re slowly walking from place to place,
Stopping to sniff at every tree,
And bark at every cat,
The stars shine bright, highlighting how late it is at night.
And my dog seems to agree,
As he pulls to go home, not even stopping at the dead bat.
We arrive at the house, both tired, but happy as we stand in the moonlight.
by Eve Nichol
This poem is such a perfect slice of life, really capturing all of the sights, sounds and sensations of the winter evening walk with a beloved dog – from the cold wind hitting the speaker’s face, to the small dog dragging on the lead, to the vivid detail of the dead bat. We really feel we’re right there in the poem. The onset of evening and darkness adds an edge of anxiety, but the poem ends with the relief of the return home, and the image of bright moonlight. In terms of suggestions, I think it might be interesting to see if you could break some of your longer lines in order to match them to your shorter ones – this might help add emphasis to some of the images in those longer lines by giving them a little more space on the page. Really resonant work!