Niche I walk my dog on broken path That crumbles into ocean tides. High voltage lines above divides The world below from aftermath. The rain drives down. The storm hath Blitzed. My intentions it derides. I walk my dog on broken path. If one still doubts, he checks the math Or knows the way that God provides. Apart I step, still mud abides, Past woodsy niche I face that wrath. I walk my dog on broken path.
Dennis Daly has previously published seven books of poetry. He writes reviews regularly for the Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene, the Somerville Times, and Wilderness House Literary Review, and on occasion for Ibbetson Street, the Notre Dame Review and Boston College’s Religion and the Arts. Please visit his blog at dennisfdaly.blogspot.com.