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.
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