This Storm of Paws
this storm of paws
on gangled limbs,
lead questing noses
above counter rims,
a whine, a bark
or playful yips,
those rough house days
of tumbled flips,
a world so new
so wonder wide,
eager running leaps
to nature's call abide,
now at dusk these settled storms
slept as dark falls like the dew,
a twitch, a snore, a growling dream
anxious yet for morning new.
Copyright © Andrew Foreman | Year Posted 2017
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