“I hear a dog bark,
And comets in the dark,”
My daughter’s poem began –
But I thought she said comments,
Which made me think
Of summer nights on the farm with the windows open
And the sound of grownups talking
On the porch below the bedroom windows;
Stuffy, airless evenings.
Talk of dogs and horses:
“It’s called a hound, not a dog.”
Careful what you say –
Be sure of what you know or think you know.
To those who care,
Dog or hound makes all the difference.
Voices float, alighting on their marks,
Stinging while I fluff my sheet,
Hearing dogs bark,
And comments in the dark.
Helen Mazarakis lives in Montclair, New Jersey, and writes poetry and children’s fiction. She spent many years working for non-profits and government on community and economic development. With an empty nest looming on the horizon, Helen hopes to travel with her husband and spend more time with family in Virginia and Greece. Her poetic works-in-progress can be found on her blog, “A Desk Of My Own,” and she is currently working on a trilogy for middle-grades readers.