It isn’t sudden or violent. The Black Dog.
It comes and you don’t notice it. It lays down at the very peripheral of your vision.
It waits until you are used to it in that spot and it moves – just a bit – closer. Before you know it, you are stepping around it, stepping over it.
Then it gets larger. And larger.
And it comes to sit next to you. And you’re strangely comforted by it.
And then it is in your lap. And then on your chest.
Someone may come by and remark upon it, upon the need to make it go away. They shoo at it. But it just regards them with no expression.
And your eyes look the same when you wonder why they bother. Because it is so troublesome to bother about things.
Chestnuts are growing
Do what you will, Winter comes
The Black Dog brings it