the dog will play


three years old, he’s still all pup
a ready grin and exuberant bark
a growl to unman the unfamiliar
and now all full of springtime and vigor
he growls and whines night and day
to be outside, running, chasing, snooping & pooping
to run in the sun, later to lie in the grass
in the shade, rising as soon as anyone
moves to grip his toys or the mammoth sticks
he’s renowned for gathering

he can carry two broom handle sized sticks
and his blue kong, and a rope tuggy
all at once in his powerful mouth

until weary from chasing and fetching
then attrition and soon he’s down to one
stick and his precious kong

never conceding to weariness
until inside unwillingly
sated from his waterbowl
he curls on the blue futon

but say the word
grab his toys
and the dog will play

david m pitchford
2 May 2012

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