Walking the dog under a marbled sky,
No-one about, just Maggie and I.
I look to the left and then to my right,
Notice the onset of diminishing light.
Clouds threaten yonder, heading our way,
Thunder expected later today.
Trotting beside me, her tail all aquiver,
A chill on the air now makes me shiver,
Her nose to the ground, she’s off like a shot,
Searching out pheasant or things long forgot.
She’s older, no wiser, loves the thrill of the chase,
Comes panting to me, a grin on her face.
She’ll pay for it later, become stiff and sore,
Slower than yesterday, and the day before.
Age doesn’t become her, her fur’s turning grey,
But she still loves her walks, four or five times a day.
Rumbles in the distance, anger in the sky,
We retrace our steps and are soon home and dry.
Photo: 2008 at the cottage.
Photo: Jan 2017
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