Saturday, 3 September 2016

Poetry 2016 / 098

September Rain

Woodland path
a chance to let the dogs run free
between here and there
though I have to keep sight of them,
watch where they do their business
and follow with a plastic bag.

The rain is calmer here
a susurrus of voices on the tops of birch
and sycamore, though enough
passes through to make the ground
muddy underfoot
and treacherous with the dropping
of the bastard with the rottweilers in number two
who never cleans up after them.

At the end of the path
they're leashed once more
just in time to avoid a confrontation
with the ancient chap from 85
and his equally ancient dog Lana.
Trickster hates Lana.
Barking ensues but the rain patters
on umbrellas and Jack
is too tired an wet to care.

© Rachel Green 2016


Stephanie Wright said...

So atmospheric. I feel as if I'm reading through the mist. This is lovely, Rachel.

Rachel Green said...

Thank you. I write too many dog walk poems!

aims said...

I immediately thought - 'fuck you - no - fuck you!' Big grin here!

Visiting with god-daughter this past week. Was appalled that she didn't pick up after her dog. Her answer 'we let the rain look after it'. It's the law here btw. Shaking my head. What will she grow up into do you think? Someone with a Rottie?

Rachel Green said...

It's the law here, too. The task of picking up after them is nothing compared to the joy they bring me.