Dog's Sonnet

For weeks the world had slipped by quietly

a humid place, warm breezes gently blew

the smell of coffee and the taste of tea

(this sanctuary had no trace of you.)

Sounds, like pages turning in a book

or one lone cricket humming in the night

had lent the place the proper sort of look

(and gave me space to think, and sing, and write.)

Now a dog approaches at the gate

there’s wire, loose and barbed around the weeds

He wags his tail; I plead with him to wait

If he runs to me now, I know he’ll bleed.

But cautiously, I tilt and lowly bow:

I do not want to scare the dog off now.