The Dog

by | Jul 24, 2006 | Poetry | 0 comments

Water bumbling by
as canalboats ply
their trade of leisure,
giving man pleasure.

The dog barks –

A dandelion on the lock,
its head a feathery white flock
spread ready to catch a wind
and fly like ‘waifery’ spind.

The dog barks –

A gnome in mad colour,
rent by wind and rain,
seeks a quiet harbour
to ease his old pain.

The dog barks –

The lock gate lowering
the water by opening
within, a rift, to lower,
like a lift, the water.

The dog lies down –

Cloud meandering free
brushing the greenery
and the narrow-boat crew
with dawn-mourning dew.

The dog dreams –

Gone is the boat, with the flow,
gone are the men and the radio,
gone is the water bubbling by,
gone is the dog lying nigh.

©Chris Green, 1992 & 2006


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