stone wall reflects echoes
heat shimmers crossways to the stack
a gingham morning cliff face
dressed up like a little kid on a farm
a shaded cold autumn dry wash
he approaches tenderly
slowly, achingly, yearningly,
one tiny paw-claw at a time
for hours he creeps up
she is massive, black, intimidating, sleek
he a grubby brown, meek
snack for a widow
2021-11-07
The Dogs are Luxuriating Now
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