Friday, 19 October 2012

Whatever happened to the Dog?

What happened to the Dog?
What happened to the dog - he was surely swept away in the rushing, swirling water.
It broke like a tsunami, taking the bridge, and the people that had been standing on the bank.
Taking the gorgonzola cheese and the silk kimono costume, that only hours before had hung in a magnificent spectacle of red and gold flutter, from the flagpole of the old Japanese man.
He lived like a hermit at the top of the village.
The dog always frolicked in the river, he roamed freely about the village.
One wonders now who sabotaged the banks, the way they crumbled in a magnificent, grumbling disintegration.
The Japanese, as we all called him, had he been there earlier?
Eccentric he may be, but subversive as a stitch on his own kimono?  Never.
Now I look back on the day, I think what colour were his shoes - and the answer?  They were yellow as jelly on a hot July, so this leads me to believe the dog survived to tell another barking tale in a different village further down the valley. Because that dog, I know, hated yellow and would jump over a tiger to avoid having to inculcate a yellow gospel in to his doggy, dogeared life.
It's surely a miracle that the water did eventually evaporate completely leaving a turquoise, vinelike serpentine long gorge, dry and completely without passion.  What can a dry, stony river bed inspire?
Not even a dog, who can bark now his own question:  Where is the sedge?
24 September 2012  V Rule
The copyright of this post belongs to Valerie Rule

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