Moose and I stroll –
up the wooded lane
where the poplars grow.
From the snowy ground,a drumming sound
bursts
forth –
launching woodward:
GROUSE!
Moose darts away
traveling with speed
tracking for his master –
who's absent these days.
"MOO-OOSE!" I growl
calling back our tracker.
Loping and leaping,
he meets his mistress trekker.
"We're on a WALK
not on a HUNT!
Come on Moose –
to the top!"
Climbing up the grade –steep and winding –
we reach
the summit
for a mountain
like view.
The temperature rises
as we start for home.
The air condenses
and fog begins to form.
Neighbor dogs come out
to greet us on our way.
Their mistress calls them
back to stay.
I clasp on the leash
to Moose's collar.
Better safe than sorry
on this March Morning.
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