My dog lifts her legs precisely.
She could lead a marching band
but it is just us two

under crescent moon
that peek-a-boos inside leafless trees.
She chases shifting shadows

and her tail brushes tracks.
I laugh as she barks and leaps
at vapors just puffed out.

Soft drifts turn to crust
and ground crackles
as our steps make hollows

filled by swirling gust.