the day is numbered by the clouds in the sky
i do not wonder when it will subside
all i know is i am here to lie
as any dog would; by my masters side.
does the day ever show any signs of anxiety?
I ask: where do the clouds go when all the rain falls
are they running to the next trail?
will the raindrops fall on that oversized white ferry?
or, will I ever play fetch with the eagles?
Overhead i hear noise
the clumps are at it again
the constant barrage of footsteps
the pink robe emphysema cough
the chatterbox lingo outside our kitchen window
the lingering smoke
isn't smoke suppose to rise?
I look up and what do i see,
my master and rain drops falling on my head
dry my paws
rub my belly
I ask
on a blanket of lions I rub and rub
and then I know all is safe.
time to sleep grandma
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