the earthly cycle at year’s end.
This is true
no matter how many fools
Dogs have unerring internal clocks
and finite bladders.
these absolutes of nature
guarantee that I’ll witness
every dawn from November to March
regardless of my
preferences or exhortations.
I don’t have a problem with this,
although I’d much rather be relishing
the warmth of bed and wife.
I trade comfort for being part of
cold quiet pinking toward sunrise,
snow blowing horizontal,
rain sometimes gentle,
often thrown hard against the ground
heaped upon the poor dogs
answering the call
of another of nature’s absolutes:
when you gotta’ pee,
you gotta’ pee.