Today, I watched
a dog cross the street.
With no collar, no name
he hobbled across the scalding pavement
and leaped into the cool comfort of the covered grass ahead.

His tail wagged
as the road burned his paws,
leaving imprints of the uneven gravel,

a reminder of the triumph.

On my own hands,
I found scratches,
bumps,
pieces of pavement wedged into my skin. 

I plucked them out, one-by-one,
wincing when I felt the burn of moving on, 
and made cars stop for me
as I followed the dog on trembling legs.