Bloodhound (a poem)

Head-down, thick folds of skin slide forward to cover her eyes.
Long ears drag the ground, swinging in time with each step
and the scent of one just passed spirals up the length
of her nose.  Hard upon the trail of one she cannot see,
led by scent (also unseen), she bumps against old tree stumps
the hard head knocking with the force of her longing.

In the straightaways it’s a forward rush
until the trail turns and pursuit turns to pause, discerning,
then she is off again, certain in her blindness. 

It is neither day nor night, only Now
with the scent of God fresh all around.
She is the hound who hunts, everywhere
a fresh trail, every chase an arrival.

Photo credit HERE. 

This post is linked with Unforced Rhythms.


  1. Hi Kelly! What a great point...that in blindness there is only 'now.' Your poor little dog has a lot to deal with, but there is that glimmer of spiritual truth as you see the struggle. I love this insight...thank you!

    1. Thanks Ceil. I recently took my kids to a rescue dog show where we learned all about Bloodhounds, I've been fascinated by the idea of being led by scent ever since reading Where the Red Fern Grows to my kids last winter.

  2. Ooh, Kelly, I love this. That profound statement, almost in passing, of "neither day nor night, only Now, with the scent of God fresh all around..." I wasn't expecting that, and when it hit me, it was a lovely light of recognition and understanding. I always appreciate how you catch God's scent fresh in your world around you.