Instinctive Hunting

My creamy coated dog, China, and I,

Went for a long pre-dawn walk,

On a crisp November morning,

Under the stars that outline

An imagined hunter named Orion.

On the walk, she would stop and sniff

What seemed like everything.

I wondered what instincts

Were running through her mind.

Tracking a salmon in a stream in some past life?

Hunting the rabbits and squirrels

In our postage-stamp sized back yard?

Following the foxes that run through

Our residential neighborhood almost daily?

There is no way for me to know,

But it prompted me to think about

My instincts.

Do I even have instincts?

Are my instincts to be a hunter like Orion?

That is a thought that makes me laugh,

And would probably do the same for family,

And all the friends I call chosen family.

I’ve been told I overthink everything

And find it impossible

To draw things to conclusion.

But, in a way, I am a hunter.

Just not hunting game like Orion.

My brain is always hunting for answers.

Reflecting on things that have happened

To me and to those I call family.

Pondering how they are all connected.

Pondering ways to make

Deeper and extra connections.

Not just to hunt for today.

But to create a multiplier effect of betterment

For all my tomorrows

And the tomorrow of those around me.

That is my instinct.