Sleeping Dogs - July 19 2022

 

Sleeping Dogs

July 19 2022

In the heat of high summer

the dog digs a burrow

in the loose dry earth

beneath an overhanging shrub.

All windmilling paws, manic tail

and eager eyes

down to dark moist soil,

ignoring the bugs, who buzz hungrily

honing in on breath, warmth, blood,

tormenting her sensitive nose

and oozing eyes.

Where the low greenery

is an all-day oasis of shade.

Where she curls up

in the cool soil

of her shallow lair.

Where she somehow sleeps

in the heat of the day.

A dogged digger,

a Buddha of forbearance.

When the air is heavy, the days long

and it feels like dragging a weight

just to walk.

When the green grass has browned

and even the weeds are limp.

When ripe fruit

bends the branches of trees

and litters the ground.

Too much to eat;

so it's left

festering in the heat,

bruised

and oozing juice

and sticky with flies.

The dog days of summer.

When sensible humans

retreat inside

and let sleeping dogs lie,

coolly at rest

in their clever cozy shelters.