Brushing the dog
With brush in hand, it’s time to groom
The dog (who likes this, I’ll assume.)
I daily brush the hairs away
Never miss a local story.
(In shedding season, twice a day.)
How skilled, my hands! My touch, how deft!
Just see the lines, the furrows left!
And after all this time I take,
The dog erupts in urgent shake;
Whose body quivers, nose to tail,
Which lets this silent thought prevail:
I’m grateful for the time you share,
But dang! You went and mussed my hair!