Socking

first there was one
size sevenish
lavendar
dropped halfway
between the women’s gym
and the music library.

a mile away, outside a cafe
on the sidewalk
infant-sized folded over
pink.

and waiting at my front door
one used-to-be white tube thing
presented pantingly
by the very (very)
big black dog
who joys in herding socks
from under the boy’s bed
with all the pride
and gentle mouth
as if he’s rescuing lambs.

Lucky sock this.
The salmon sky
brights with lightning.
The forecast says
rain.

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