Early Evening in the Flowerpots Garden

Six weeks after the removal of her forelimb and shoulder blade,
Her black fur regrown enough to cover the scar with a crimp,
My dog stands beneath the tree chomping crab apples in the shade —
Elegant as a flamingo, eating them in lieu of brine shrimp.

Yet pink are the ears of the man sitting with his back to the sun;
How long can one thread of web rising with the warm air contain
This settled moment, when now she finds it easier to run;
And will kibbles infused with cannabis oil palliate her pain?