Today is damp and grey,
like an old dog coming home
after loping through
our rampant lawn.
Today settles at
the foot of our bed and
slumbers like it’s dawn-
half lucid and half willful
in its contented resting on.
We whistle and stomp,
leash in hand by the door,
but the damp grey dog
twitches its ears,
then dutifully slumbers
some more.
Maybe tomorrow
we’ll wake to a
young lab soaked
in golden sun.
But for now, our day
is this damp grey dog
with its slumberful
loving return.
pm poetry 