OLD DOGS AND FULL MOONS

One night in spring,
when the moon is full
and casts shadows so large
that even white lapdogs
walk alone and unafraid
down deserted dirt roads,
old dogs of all sizes slink silently
from their comfortable couches
to gather on playgrounds or in fields,
meeting with friends not seen  
since fall’s Harvest Moon.

The old dogs form a circle—
a council of elders—
as the shadows of their lives
flicker though damp night air
and begin by speaking the names
of those now moved on,
followed by silence until
the leader proclaims
“Let the stories begin!”

And then tales are told
of spectacular baying chases
and Jehovah’s Witnesses scared witless.  
Rueful apologies are made to mail carriers
nipped when the passions of youth
still triumphed o’er the wisdom of age,
and each year without fail
the far-off yelping of a lusty hound
is carried on the nighttime breeze,
and the council stops
to listen and remember
until the frenzy fades.

Humans at home
worry all night at their absence
but are relieved at first light
when missing dogs
materialize in the mist
to receive the sacraments of forgiveness—
a pat on the head
and a scratch behind the ears—
but no matter how often
the question is asked,
the old dogs remain
true to their word
and refuse to reveal
where they went,
who they saw
or what they did.

(So it was in the beginning, so it is now, so it ever shall be.)
– Joseph Neely

This poem was written, lost and then found. I wrote it around 1996 and forgot about it. I re-discovered and immediately remembered the poem while sorting through my mother’s notebooks*. I sent it to her in a letter, which she saved. I have worked hard at rewriting the poem over the past few days, mostly eliminating the unnecessary and sharpening some images. The bones were there, but it needed work. It felt a bit like a prayer as I worked on it, hence the parenthetical line at the end . . . I may or may not keep that. Do you like the poem? Feel free to leave a comment below.

* Catherine Verschoor Neely McNabb would be 101 today (August 27, 2026) were she still alive.

Please note: the image above was generated by artificial intelligence. I do not use AI – not even one tiny bit – in the writing of my poems.

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My book, SLOW RIVERS, can be ordered through your local bookstore or online via bookshop.org. (ISBN 979-8-218-43822-7). Yes, you can also find Slow Rivers on Amazon, but does Jeff Bezos really need the money?

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Joseph Neely, all rights to original material reserved.