Puppies

puppy-with-stick

I watch him waken from his nap
Stretching, rolling, finally standing
He looks about
Searching for his newest challenge
The little tail in constant animation
The stubby legs running, stumbling
Chasing all that moves
A brief pause to sample flora
Tugging on a stubborn weed.
Youthful bravado on display
Chewing on a broken stick
Carried around for all to admire
Off again with his unsure gait
To seek another treasure
I pick him up and reap the bounty
Of a soft wet tongue on my cheek
While he wiggles to once again be free
On he goes, sniffing, tasting
Finding life in all he sees
And, when all his dragons have been slain
And imagined foes subdued,
He returns with heavy eyes and weary legs
Lays his head upon my shoe
And dreams his puppy dreams

Originally published June 2014

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About oldmainer

I am retired and live in southern Maine with my wife and two dogs. I started Oldmainer .wordpress.com as an outlet for my occasional opinions and random observations, with some poetry thrown in. I welcome anyone that wants to kick back and join me here on the porch, exploring all the gifts we have been given and the memories collected. Thanks for stopping by.
This entry was posted in Pets, Poetry, Reflection and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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