I go for walks with my human

and all she does is walk.

Never does she sniff a leaf or

roll in the grass or run with sticks.

She does write poems and stuff.

I’m trying to meet her where she is,

but it doesn’t seem like much.

 A pen’s a  very small stick

and just not up to snuff.

Knox

Been on the planet

for eighty years today, yet

sometimes it seems I just got here.

JDG

Even the lure of sticks

is not enough

for Knox to linger

in the winter rain.

He quickly returns

to his warm bed 

and DOG TV.

JDG

I once thought by eighty

I’d be either dead or wise,

but time is running out

and things look otherwise.

JDG

Now that the trees are bare

it’s easier to see the circus

of squirrels at my door,

to watch the audience of birds

flap their wings and join the show.

Knox himself is not a fan

and tries to chase them out of town.

JDG

Pale gray clouds slowly slide

across an even paler sky.

Tiny drops of rain dot my jacket.

Knox sniffs every fallen leaf.

Vultures circle overhead.

Still, my mood is brighter

than the day.

JDG