A Nose For Art

My dog is giving the sky a meticulous tongue lolling. Half way through the walk he dips his pink lapper into a muddy puddle then continues to paint the sky to his liking, 'his liking' being those odiferous bits of tainted earth he uncovers with his wet nose. I can see his work is having effect. Just above our heads the air has thickened, yellowing clouds gather in a mellifluous miasma. The heavens are ready to piss. Internally we are both sunny, it's just that his sense of art, and its expression is different from mine. Dogshat and daffodils and the world always adding suitable hues to balance the two. Nature, like a Michael Angelo always face up building a sky-bridge between them both. Nevertheless, later today I'll come back here with a ladder and a bucket of whitewash.