Keeping his distance but on my trail,
Has been for over a week nearly two
Following wherever I go, his instincts are strong
He knows I have water, he knows of my food,
Does he trust me enough to ask?
Waiting patiently to make his move,
Pacing up and down with anxiety, starving, thirsty, on edge,
It all gets too much as I cook up a meal.
He makes himself known, slowly he walks towards me,
Crouching low and moving slow as too not scare me.
Still wary he gets closer, head bowed, tail down,
I reach out with some scraps. Stretching his neck he takes,
He wolfs down the offerings, backing away slightly, nervously.
I offer water from a bottle from which he devours, and doesn't spill a drop.
Our eyes connect, we have trust, understanding, and respect.
A friendship of unconditional trust brought by necessity.
I don't fear him, nor him me, we are one with the wilds,
A relationship so natural, a friendship, a companionship of convenience.
We are there for each other in support, he's watching my back,
I pack up and continue my journey, my new friend follows, closely.
He follows with hope.
I'm humbled to call him my friend.
© Robin Welsh
Robin Welsh writes poems and rhymes daily about all life in general...but mainly politics, human rights and world affairs. Performing at every opportunity he can get, not yet published because of procrastination.