Hound dogs baying

low through misty ceiling

Muted hue through tainted glass

wet with drops of yesterday’s lasting

Dried in dawn’s new light


Path once beaten

Grown dense in bladed splendor

Bold as nature’s nymph

Lost to ways once granted


Ring true your song

Sing above the deafening pitch

Drown the failing dawn


Look to the west

Bathed in quiet slumber





About Phil

Hi, my name is Phil. I’ve managed to escape the corporate world, rid myself of excess belongings, travel the country extensively in my old Winnebago, and find a new home on a beautiful barrier island in the Gulf of Mexico. I define myself as: a free spirit, a writer, a philosophical anarchist, a poet; a lover of nature, a lover of art, a protector of animals, as well as a devoted friend and partner
This entry was posted in General, Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Hound

  1. Julie says:

    I have two hounds – one gently snoring on the sofa next to mine, the other in a deep and peaceful sleep on the floor nearby – my keyboard clicking, the rain falling and the thunder rumbling in the distance. Love them.

    Liked by 1 person

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