Poem 20160117

sacked out
at my feet
the dog looks tired
tongue hanging out
where he is missing teeth

on the walk
he seemed lively
and we took a route
we rarely take
so we could hear the frogs
in the creek
whenever the cars weren’t
whooshing past us
and we had
a moment of stillness

he snores
i smell the scent
of wood smoke from chimneys
see the blanket of low clouds
not quite fog
listening again
to the throaty calls
of frogs