Eleven Now

Eleven now, your weight falls hard

to deck-boards,  sponging sunlight.

To grass for love of balls that jump

too high and roll too far.

And I slow down to kneel, to bend,

remembering with fingertips

the velvet of your puppy ears

and how they've never changed.

And I slow down in thanks for grace

in the form of a million tail-wags,

and greetings after longish days

and kisses undeserved.

Eleven now; I too slow down,

determined that when we look back,

you'll know I loved you well enough

to last eleven more.