Morning Walk

Poopinator and I are off at dawn,
or nearly so,
to mark the world anew,
and so proclaim that we,
and it, are both still here,
leaving marks so strong and clear
that every nose may attest
that here we roved on dewy grass
and stopped at every tree we passed

To leave a clue that others may attend
with scrutiny that would surpass
the divination of seers
over dark and bitter dregs,
or fowl entrails,
though it must be said,
that these would offer other tales,
no less compelling to our writer
or his kind.

Out, out as far as the nose can see,
beyond this block, beyond that tree,
out as far as the leash will stretch.
Until it snaps taught, leaving us straining
at the distant shore.

Then back, short leashed, past chances lost,
past roads not taken, and those not crossed,
until at last the scent of home
a new drive awakens.