The Girl, the Dog, and Poetry

“Cassie, are you ready yet?”

This is not an unusual question when our youngest daughter is home. We are off to my brother’s house to exchange Christmas gifts and we are running a little late. Cassie pops into the kitchen with a smile on her face and, after the usual conversation about remembering things, we head out the driveway. As often happens, I glide up next to our mailbox so Jeanette can grab the mail on our way out.

“You have a package from David.”

My friend David Steingass is a poet and every Christmas he writes a poem to share.  The package is something special.
“He has sent a book of poetry along with his Christmas poem. Shall I read it?”
And Jeanette began to read David’s poem entitled “Girl Walking Her Dog In Vilas Park At Dawn”.  From the opening line -“His legs moved like brown tuning forks” – David’s poem and Jeanette’s reading transformed a mundane afternoon drive into a heart felt conversation about a dog, a girl, and poetry. About the power of words to capture images, as well as the affection of the poet for both dog and girl.  How sweet is that?  He even got the ultimate compliment from Cassie, “That was SO cool.”

Most important, I think David’s poem does what all good poems do – it changes the way we see the world. We will never again drive past the stone bridge in Vilas Park without seeing this “morally sensible” dog choosing his own route or wondering how much the dog’s consciousness depends on the “Girl”.   I love poems.

Thanks, David

Girl Walking Her Dog In Vilas Park At Dawn

By David Steingass

His legs move like brown

tuning forks. His gait’s an automatic
transmission with fluid drive
suspension. All his awareness

the result of extended

dialog. He’s illegal, this dog
in Vilas Park, but only when his feet touch
the ground if he’s running loose

which his moral sensibility would

never allow. And
he’s so cute. Some kind of terrier with fox-
pointy ears, and a scruffy thick wiry coat

spliced with Belgian farm dog genes.

Say a turverin’s, wired to jump
under buses in her place.
Past the zoo’s main gate, over the lagoon’s

stone bridge, his consciousness evolves

as they go. If he can’t respond
yet, his walk makes plain he knows
each day’s route is his to choose.

 From

echolocations – poets map madison

Cowfeather Press
PO Box 620216
Middleton, WI 53562
cowfeatherpress.org