Writing About Dogs
Gay Brewer
Listen, there's nothing trite in
that love as it is happening.
If you choose to write about
this subject, you'd better be good,
or you will butcher something
better than you are.
The white dog sits by my chair,
silent, his nose lowered.
He sniffs my thigh and licks.
The plush hair, white like cotton.
He pushes his head into my hand,
the brown eyes half-closed.
The ears back. That simple.
