It’s too early in the season for the pumpkin
to come off the vine–
off the vein–
off the pulse of life,
but it had to happen.
Straight down and round,
heels balancing, orange-whisped tail
Cali had been loaded one last time into
the horse trailer so it would be easier
to haul her to the dump.
They would dig a hole,
and bury her.
I cut through the Dreamsicle-colored and stilled swish,
a tail souvenir,
but only after helping to ease her onto her side.
She offered no resistance.
The vet wrapped the strands of hair
together with white medical tape.
another sweetly glowing sunset
We sweat and yearn for rain.