Sunlight Wears Their Shadows

In the hush of morning’s yawning terrain,  

a white pitbull nestles near a gray donkey,  

their breaths thick with the weight of frost,  

their shapes carved into the day’s first light.  

The pitbull storms the edges of the field,  

his paws a heartbeat against brittle earth,  

while the donkey watches, tethered to patience,  

worn hooves planted firm like old promises.  

When crows clutter the sky with black noise,  

or the shiver of fox lies in the reeds,  

the donkey lifts his head like a question,  

the pitbull answers with a snarl of certainty.  

They are mismatched and magnificent together,  

guardianship stitched into the marrow of their bond,  

a tale they write in the language of dirt paths,  

in the trails their feet weave across tall grass.  

By sunset, shadows grow long as lullabies,  

the donkey folds into the pitbull’s quiet,  

shoulders lean in, an unspoken assurance,  

the night will bloom safely under their watch.