Tuesday, September 22, 2015


                    Leaping from where, just seconds since, she sat,
                    Our little pup has bolted from our bed
                    As if (impossible) she’d seen a cat—
                    Some other cue has prompted her instead.

                   Were it for thirst, we’d hear her sipping soon—
                   Which now, as I write this, I hear her do;
                   Her ways are like the vagaries of the moon:
                   No one can guess what motives she’ll pursue.

                   But one thing’s sure: wherever fun is found,
                   This little pup will find her way to it,
                   And where she is, for sure fun’s all around
                   For one like her, who’d rather leap than sit.

                       But when she’s all played out, she’ll take a flop
                       Looking as rung out as the kitchen mop.