Overland to the Islands

by Denise Levertov

Let’s go — much as that dog goes,

intently haphazard.  The

Mexican light on a day that

“smells like autumn in Connecticut”

makes iris ripples on his

black gleaming fur — and that too

is as one would desire — a radiance

consorting with the dance.

Under his feet

rock and mud, his imagination, sniffing,

engaged in its perceptions — dancing

edgeways, there’s nothing

the dog disdains on his way,

nevertheless he

keeps moving, changing

pace and approach but
not direction — “every step an arrival.”