The Simple Pleasures of Howling | Poetry | Hudson Valley | Chronogram Magazine
Supposedly the quiet one around here,
I still occasionally feel compelled to join in
when the village sirens suddenly begin
their terrible moaning and screaming.
I’ll willingly take my place then alongside
the many other neighborhood dogs,
throwing back my head to howl away
for the simple relieving pleasures of
pure unrestrained grief, and to enjoy
the sight of the poor dogs around me
as they gradually grow silent, cocking
their massive heads in wonder, watching
and softly whimpering as they realize
that even I have no suitable answers.

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