Walking the Dog

by Amir Sason

This morning, cool for July,
I took my dog on her usual walk--
up to the baseball diamond, past
the green bleachers, the dugout, through
the short, wet grass
and back again,
and stopped to talk
to no one
because no one was about.

Too early for baseball players,
or newspaper delivery people,
though not for little dogs and
their aging owners, eager
to get the day underway.

She snorted, my dog,
looked happy,
every step: she's old, too,
but lithe and affectionate,
and comes to her moments
with an enthusiastic wag
and strut.

Then we returned,
through the wet grass,
again, past
her sleeping friend,
a chocolate lab named "Boo,"

past the sunlight and gray houses,
the empty school on the tired road,
past a few bright and lazy wildflowers,
a few crows cackling their enthusiasm
for the morning, too.
Back again,

back again.

© Amir Sason, 2003

Amir Sason, born in Schenectady, NY, and living, now, in Portland, Maine, is a "very part-time poet" and full-time graphic artist
for a large Internet firm. HIs dog, a pug, is named "Griswold."