I was thinking of a small beagle dog that I used to feed near the top of the slope at the Powhatan No. 6 mine. When it was a nice night, I would try to make sure I would be outside for lunch on midnight shift so I could sit in a little Plymouth Locomotive that rested on the rails in the supply yard.
I never knew the dog's name and I surely never gave him one, but we got to be pretty good friends. My mom would make me a really nice lunch and usually he'd take about half of a cheese sandwich from me and then we'd 'talk' and look at the stars for a while. Sometimes we would wander over into the brush where a little family cemetery was and clear some of the weeds from around the stones. "Shafer" was the surname as I remember.
I was so strong and so young.
Sometimes I'll run my fingers through my own hair and imagine it is someone but I surely don't mean it to be simply anyone, because it isn't.