Tail Taps

Pulled up the drive,

the engine dies.

And there it is, again.

That stray, in sun or rain.

Sitting, patient, by the porch,

a quiet, watchful torch.

No collar, just that steady gaze.

It follows me through blurring days.

I unloaded bags, one by one.

Its tail gave two slow thumps, then done.

Just twice, against the concrete gray.

Then settled in, to watch me stay.