Invitation to A Dog
by Walter Donway

You liked to dive at brambles,
And when the job was done,
You'd sport a badge of burrs.
Your nature was to run.

You'd fire sandy bullets
In dashes through the foam
And never catch a fish.
Your nature was to roam.

Wherever did you go
Those moon-mad nights in May?
You'd scratch my door at dawn
And sleep the day away.

Then late one yellow fall
It seemed you'd gone for good,
But first frost saw you home,
Your muzzle flecked with blood.

So, come and lie a while.
There's gray around your eyes.
You think I never notice
Your struggle when you rise?

You're welcome on the porch
Beside my rocking chair.
You'll find the goodly sun
Is kind to stiff hips there.

You think I never ran?
Or dived into a fight?
Or loosed a lusty howl
Or stalked the restless night?

I don't have anyone
To say “good dog” to me,
Explain the day has come
And what must be, must be.

I say you've earned your place.
And damn-all how it seems.
The moon is bright on roads
We're roaming in our dreams.


Copyright © Walter Donway, all rights reserved