Tuesday, January 10, 2017

                  We never know, when we drive to the park
                  The dogs and I, bound for our morning walk,
                  What curious encounters on our lark
                  Or fascinating scent trails left to stalk
                  We’re bound to find, but more adventure waits:
                  Encountering a schoolboy trudging past
                  Weighed down by books, lagging behind his mates,
                  “Creeping like snail,” as Shakespeare said, downcast;
                  Or watching a Frisbee swirl toward the sky,
                  Which someone else’s dog runs off to fetch

                  As our girls wonder if they ought to try
                  But shouldn’t, since they don’t know how to catch.
                       Now that this sonnet’s course has nearly run,
                       It’s time to leash up for our morning’s fun.