The Greek for “Dog Mouse”

Prairie dogs live in towns,
And coteries and wards.
Entire colonies existing beneath the earth,
With burrowed lines like quiet streets,
Connected in ways we can’t always see.

They greet each other with soft touches,
Little kisses on the nose
And that’s how they know

You’re one of mine.
I’m one of yours.
We’re still here.

And maybe that’s what companionship is.

Not just the big gestures,
But the small moments too.

Where we check in just to say
I haven’t gone anywhere.

Prairie dogs take turns watching the sky.
While one stands tall,
Scanning for hawks.
The others eat and rest,
Full of trust that they’re safe.

That’s the kind of love I want.
Not constant,
But consistent.
You look out for me when I’m too tired to look up.
And when it’s your turn to fall asleep,
I’ll keep watch.

They don’t spend their lives alone.
They’re not meant to.
Neither are we.

Because somewhere in our bones,
We remember what it means to be part of something.

To dig through dirt together,
To make room for joy,
To build a life that feels safe.

So I will be your burrow on the hard days.
You will be my sky when I need to look up.
And together, we’ll kiss the air
Just to say I see you.

You’re one of mine.
I’m one of yours.
We’re still here.

For we were never meant to be alone.