photos: Dora Kazmierak
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Rhythmically I rake leaves from lawn,
on high hedges two shadows are drawn.
An aged dog keeps me company, hazily
seeing garden scenes, running around crazily.
I halt leaf harvesting, heaped waste can wait,
throw faded tennis ball, tempt his terrier trait.
Ball grabbed with grin, teases for chase,
catch-me-if-you-can, fondly-recalled that face.
Worn orb jaw-clamped, reluctant to release,
suddenly surrendered, then off he trots to trees.
Hide-and-seek peeking, bright eyes waiting,
tail tick-tock wagging, tense body animating.
Ball arch throw landing in vegetable patch
often close thrown with chance for Jack to catch.
But slowly back legs failed, walking redundant,
Sleep dominated his days, reluctantly recumbent.
Now only images remain, Jack’s curled under clay;
life’s less fun with no clowning dog play.
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