The Tell of the Tail
A misty fog pours through the vale;
the air, a clammy, whiteish pale.
There’s treachery out on the trail,
but Missy simply wags her tail.
The sun cannot pull back the veil,
feeling assaulted and assailed,
declares the morn a total fail,
but Missy simply wags her tail.
We slip and slide on rock and shale,
attempt good speed to no avail,
traverse the hillside like a snail,
but Missy simply wags her tail.
A plan to keep heart fit and hale,
a hike like this, does sure entail.
I’d rather just go check the mail,
but Missy simply wags her tail.
This fitness is the holy grail -
like taking iron and eating kale
to stave off getting old and frail,
but Missy simply wags her tail.
There’s likely more I could regale,
add to my little monotale,
but I think I shall just exhale,
delight in Missy’s wagging tail.
Copyright © Jeff Kyser | Year Posted 2022
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