At the dog park
by Jack Love

A cloud of breathless pants pull us along a pre-worn trail slick from a wet

Unfrozen cold. You sit, observe.

We arrive to the park - a flurry of tails and barks and tangled webs -

But you cheer along, you welcome

The paws - the nosy, sniffing dogs.

And while I raise my voice above the din of quaint park noise,

You follow the golden hue of a

Retriever as he roars about the

Field like a cowardly lion chasing

The dull rubber tone of a bouncing ball skirting across concrete, grass.

And you laugh.