Dogs in Mud Season (sonnet)

Now blows in the promised birth of Spring
With all her mud prints on the kitchen floor
When snowmelt joins light rain in becoming
Prediction of what warm winds have in store.
The eight paws will persist, no matter how
We wash them every time they come inside,
Their stenciling of flowers we see now
Presaging gardens’ glory mud now hides.
Mud Season has a beauty all its own,
Though on our backs and hands it takes a toll:
They who accept it all as sun’s love shown
Laugh as they run to reach the mud and roll.
We all would know their simple joy if we
Would cherish all the natural world can be.

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About janemwoodman

Singer, writer, restaurant reviewer, urban farmer, devoted lover of my husband....old and getting happier all the time.
This entry was posted in Dogs, Dogs, Birds and Other Joys, Gardening, joy, love, Philosophy, Poetry, Sonnet, Spring. Bookmark the permalink.

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