Old Hunting Dog
In the crisp days of autumn
hot breezes mute his distant bark:
the happy wanderer's song sung
from his old canine heart.
The autumn hunt is on. He'll be
padding his way back to me
with a drowned duck in his strong
jaws--or, maybe not.
His eyes moist with vitality
will greet me from his trail. Add
more to this great joy--I'll see
the wagging of his tail.
Copyright © Carol Louise Moon | Year Posted 2021
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