Donnie attends church every Sunday morning.
He guides Chuck to a back pew,
lies down at his long-time companion’s feet.
Sunlight through stained glass windows
gilds his blond fur with rainbows.
He enters into an hour of silence,
his own realm of meditation,
or sleep. Just before the benediction
Donnie stands, shakes his harness,
his unique practice in the ringing of bells.
His expression is hopeful
as the two of them head toward
the fellowship hall. Will there be
a cookie, or perhaps a bit of left-over
communion bread?


From Glint (MoonPath Press, 2019).
Used here with permission.