On this dreadful August day
I knew,
my loyal friend,
my scruffy white shadow,
you’d soon be leaving.

Then the grocery delivery arrived,
forgotten order
left on the stoop
beneath the clearest cyan sky—
and as if to mock me
contained
the season’s most perfect watermelon.

I cut into its flesh,
so flawlessly ripe,
unable to taste its sweetness
or appreciate the pink
that on other days,
would have made me thankful
for such simple pleasures.

I glanced at you,
curled up sleeping
on the kitchen floor
quietly bathed in sunlight,
knowing a month ago,
you’d have begged
for just one bite.

And that’s all it would take
to earn a spiraling tail
and your soulful stare
of gratitude.

The fruit went into containers
I placed alongside
all the treats I made,
untouched,
as your appetite waned.

This momentary distraction complete,
my eyes return to you,
and the choice that waits—
to hold on for another day
or let you slip gently
into whatever comes after.

– Maureen Reynosa-Braak