A MAY MORNING
BY FIONA CUMMINGS
Seven o clock in the morning
Time to wake still yawning
From a dream of pink penguins
And everything odd I can imagine
The sun is shining
The birds are singing
And distant church bells are ringing
Damp dew on the grass
Puddles from yesterday’s rain on the paths
A chill in the air
But the weather is fair
A silent street
My footsteps echo
Off the buildings as I pass
I say hello
A worker is about to
cut the grass
I take my dog to the park
On the fence is a sparrow and a lark
I stand talking to a lady
Who feels the need
To tell me about her dogs history
Ailments and what she gives it to eat
Nothing is a mystery
To dog owners
As they feel the need to share
But one thing is obvious
For sure they care
My dog runs free
Then keeps coming back to me
Smile on her face
Mud up her legs
What a disgrace
But with those eyes she begs
My forty fifth time
I have thrown her ball
My arms now aren’t mine
Aching from the
throws
But my dog goes on
Twitching her little nose
Sniffing the morning air
Without a care
Such a simple thing makes her day
On this fine morn of May
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