MY MUSE

                Although I’ve known several dogs before,
                I never thought I’d have such a rapport
                As I do now with Tiggy, little dear,
                Who, as I write, is snuggling right here
                Beside my hip in our shared easy chair,
                As safe and comfortable as any lair,
                Serving me often as my morning muse
                Providing me with notions I can use.
                This little daemon, though, at other times
                Turns demon—ask our squirrels—intending crimes
                And making mayhem in our dawning yard,
                Quite disconcerting to a would-be-bard.
                     But now she’s settled down, her breathing slow,
                     Because of which, I have this verse to show.

*