Sunday, July 2, 2017
Gunner, the bird dog
His spotted head lifts for the scent of the woods,
Ears twitch to the least of all sound.
His coat blends invisibly in fields of dry grass,
Where he moves with a leap and a bound.
He takes his direction from my point of view,
Fine tunes them with senses so sharp,
That I take directions from a wag of his tail,
As he helps me to see in the dark.
A pat on his head, and a lick on my hand,
Makes a bond as we walk through the trees.
He turns on a dime from that whistle of mine,
Every fiber of his being for me.
He runs like the wind through thicket or field,
Bird dogging, zigzagging through night.
Dog tired and hungry he'll curl at my feet,
Still guarding with all of his might.
When I'm far from home, he'll wait at the gate,
No grass can grow long where he stood.
With a jump, and a twist, and a laughing bark,
He welcomes like no one else could.
Of all relationships a man could take,
From life..., from beginning to end.
Nothing quite compares, to the companionship there,
Between a man, and his faithful best friend.