I am no Robert Frost ... but a walk in the woods does scream poetry, does it not?
The sun reaches through the trees and seeks
the Earth ... shadows abound
The snow twinkles, the tree branches stir
it is so quiet and yet everywhere there is sound
The dogs rush ahead, free to chart their own pace
And yet they happily return at the very first call
The footing is tricky, hard packed snow and ice
there is some slipping, wrenching but ultimately no fall
I stop to gaze at how the water has contoured the ice
sculpts it, moves it, you have to look twice
Ahhh, the river it calls my name
it speaks to me in a soothing voice
It beckons me with its siren song
I seek it out -- I have no choice
The puppies find a stick and the battle starts to mount
Who can get the most in their mouth -- it's very hard to measure
Yet they tug and chomp and hold on tight
One stick can provide a doggie trove of pleasure
No comments:
Post a Comment