The dog catches my eye
and whines his question:
“Now, Boss, now?”
An idea: the smell of salt
opens my mind.
I laugh and nod.
He stands with a clatter
of claws on hardwood,
tail high and boisterous, as
he prances around the couch.
His eager head presses through
the red leash harness
and we’re out the door,
through the dunes,
onto the moor,
hearts on the fly in
our amble du jour.
Narble Furt Lives 
He’s such a wise old soul.
Yes, he is. And a clown and a pal and a joy to be around. He just walked into my office and gave me “the look.”
We know that look, too! I can even identify with head held high and the particular prance! What a lovely place to take that walk. Serene and calm!
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