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Unfrozen
May 16, 2010
The dog runs in the frozen park
Yesterday a swamp but now
She runs on frozen earth.
She chases the bright orange ball
Flying through the bitter wind
Then catching it, she trots off
To the closest cold mud hole
Still unfrozen, a watery brown.
She lays down with finality.
When she stands, I sigh.
Half of her tawny, golden coat
Is a rich, beautiful brown.
Cold a foreign thing to her,
But as to me a dear old friend
With arguments to share.
We walk home in the gray,
Cold, muddy, wet, but in our hearts
Warm.
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