Walking the dog

Source: Wikimedia

The creak and whine of the closet door,
curious eyes and perked ears,
bounding and wagging.
It’s that time again. Let’s go!

My companion doesn’t care
what time of day
or what the weather brings.
Only that we take this time to stretch
our legs.

Landscape smothered by a dull, brown carpeting
with fits of clover bursting through
peppering the scene with bits of green.

Laughing sunbeams spill to the ground
enchanting a small swarm of gnats.
I’m not fond of gnats, but their dance
is fascinating, like boisterous children
splashing in the surf.

My furry friend stops
to inspect a patch of dry grass
for a reason known only to him.
Perhaps another like him left a message behind.
He leaves his response and trots away.

The coolness of the earth mingles
with the warm breath of a breeze.
A bird’s song tickles
my ears and teases my mind.
The only sound except for
jingling tags and claws on pavement.

I watch his trot accelerate to a canter.
His form hints of a distant relation
to a feral cousin, sleek and efficient.
Soft and coarse fur glowing in the sun.

No leash for my friend
though I carry it in my hand.
We have a quiet understanding. Human and dog.
I take care of him, and he takes care of me.
Perhaps he’s smarter than he lets me believe.

A lonely stream slips by
bubbling and murmuring to itself.
He finds a pair of ducks
hiding behind last year’s cattails.

In a blink the air erupts with furious quacking,
paws splashing, a tail wagging.
I’d swear that I saw an impish grin on that dog’s face!
He watches the fierce flapping,
ducks getting farther and farther away
Muddy paws again. Just another day in my paradise.



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