BY THE DAWN’S EARLY LIGHT
The early planes above make their descent,
So now my game’s to shape lines meet and fit,
A feat on which my mind is wholly bent.
The dogs have had their outing to the yard
While Kimmie’s still upstairs asleep in bed
Dreaming of scenes in which our dogs have starred:
It’s they, not sugarplums, that fill her head.
And now it’s they who’ll ride this sonnet out,
A presence in our lives to celebrate,
But if I am too long at this, they’ll shout:
“It’s walkie time for us! Your poem can wait!”
Let’s see if I can wrap this up right off
Before they come to me to plead and scoff