Dog Days by Kimberly Coverly

Dog Days by Kimberly Coverly

I do not believe I will ever find

A poem as great, happy as a canine.

The way their tale wags at any happy news,

Or the sight of a tennis ball in view.

How their tongue hangs loppily to the side,

Jumping at the chance to swim in the tide.

The sparkle in their droopy eye sockets,

When your hand reaches into a pocket.

How their mood changes with an open door,

Or a piece of scrap food dropped on the floor.

The loyalty found in their soft expression,

And the way they always like your fashion.

Their soft fur that catches your falling tears,

Or how they have been there for many years.

The way they become an instant shadow,

Staring at you instead of what’s below.

Picky eaters, they will never become,

Eating anything under the bright sun.

The joy that comes from your night arrival,

The vicious bark at your neighbors and rivals.

Their instant happiness at sprinklers,

How they are the daintiest tinklers.

The many circles before they fall asleep,

And how they go to bed without a peep.

Their ability to always come home,

Finding the stick in the midst of their foam.

Nothing will ever replace loving dogs,

Not even my old favorite pair of clogs.

All of these things trump any poetry,

Rhyming has never been my cup of tea.

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Trees by Joyce Kilmer

I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.