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Faith, the dog next door.

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The wind rustles through the falling leaves.

Colors of gold and orange splash the world.

The sky is cloudless,

the sun hangs high in the unblemished blue.

Through the chain linked fence I see a pair of flaxen eyes.

They're watching warily,

Waiting.

It is Faith,

her appearance is that of a coyote.

Her coat golden and black.

Her fur fine, blown this way and that by the gusts of autumn wind.

All day she wanders,

wonders.

Her paws dance through the dead grass as she approaches.

She is the protector of her house.

But she knows me, and I her.

I receive a warm kiss when I stretch my hand out through the chain links.

But she does not stay long,

she must keep watch.

 

 




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