Outside with Her Dog

Sarah wrote a poem this weekend that I thought was well worth sharing.

Outside with my Dog

We run
Around and
Around and
Around.
She scampers
Up the old pile
Of wood
And the hill
Of ivy.
She makes it.
I squeak a
Wheezy, chewy
Ball and her
Ears
Prick up, like
She knows
That
I’ll do it one more time.
And when I do,
She zooms,
Down the broken, wooden
Stairs.
I freeze,
Brace myself
For the dog who is like
A jet-
She’ll knock you
Over,
Despite the size.
She grabs the
Ball and at last
Runs away with it.
She looks like someone
Who has just
Gotten a bite
Too big to chew-
The ball is too
Big for her mouth.
When she waits
by the gate

I cautiously
Let her out,
The cat is nearby.
She pulls, and
I let her out of
My grip.
Out from my
Peripheral
Vision, I see
Her trot to
The cat.
I quickly
Close the
latch and hurry
towards her.
I see a tiny,
Delicate grey
Paw swipe at
Her golden-red
Muzzle.
She backs up,
Her rear
High,
And waits.
I drag her,
Her resistance
Loosens
At the door.
She runs
Inside, finds
A toy,
And rushes to
Me,
While I
close the door.