Turning a Corner

moving slowly
sensing where she is
all is familiar

old, old dog,
low to the ground,
mark of the breed

blind these last five years
now out the gate
left open by mistake

into the night
all the same to her
and down the street

hugging the curbing,
secure in its sturdy shoulder,
down the long block

until it ends
as things do

what more to say
when it's over
and nothing beyond

how to go on
and to what,
nothing's the same

or as good as it was
but the heart still beats
life wants itself

a corner is turned,
must be followed
it leads to more

of what it is
solid ambiguity
aiming at another corner.

... by Barbara Wolf (1995)