Early mornings I walk my dog.
What a pair, what a sight we must make
in the early dawn light.
She, with her little legs flying,
her little French Bulldog smile–
Then me with my crazy, curly, too early,
morning hair and not enough coffee yet face.
As the cool sun, rising, greets
us with a loving grace,
no one would know
how my little dog schools me in life.
in her jaunty little prance,
in her little smiling face, looking up at me,
her joy, her pure delight
in the movement of her body,
in the scent of morning in the air,
in the gentle quiet of dawn upon us–
It is the moment,