Getting a little bit goofy here with some dog poems. Many thanks to my daughter, Lyse, who lives in Halifax, Nova Scotia whose sharp observations are reflected in the two “chapters” of My Daughter Sings of Nova Scotia.
My Daughter Sings of Nova Scotia
1.
Last night’s moon poured silver on the ocean;
At sunrise, sea glows golden where the fog hangs back.
Frosty air delicious in the mouth and throat.
Dog is heaving to eject
A surfeit of fresh spring grass.
Hork! Hork! Hork! Three tiny, glowing puffs of steam –
So beautiful!
2.
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Old Dog
My old dog,
belly full of breakfast,
walks in the tall grass,
looking for a place to poop.
Decides instead to roll and back-scratch.
She’s on a side-hill.
Tries to roll up-slope.
It won’t stick.
Two, three times she tries before she quits.
I swear she looked around
to make sure no one was watching.
I know the feeling.
Hot-damn! Some dang fool has tilted the world!
But the truth is,
distracted and full of shit,
we are easily confused.
(July, 2001)
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Poems, Pictures and Stories 
very good Farrell…hork??
On Mon, May 4, 2020 at 12:29 AM Poems, Pictures and Stories wrote:
> fmboyce posted: ” Getting a little bit goofy here with some dog poems. > Many thanks to my daughter, Lyse, who lives in Halifax, Nova Scotia whose > sharp observations are reflected in the two “chapters” of My Daughter > Sings of Nova Scotia. My Daughter Sings of Nov” >
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“Hork” is my phonetic rendering of a dog working up to a full-on barf – as in “hork, hork, hork, blaah”.
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You up late, man!
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Thanks Farrell, Fun stuff about dogs, in Ireland dogs were almost always outside creatures and there was no such thing as “dog food” to buy, they were thrown scraps and bones and had to fend for themselves beyond that, rarely in the home, outside and expected to work for their living. Roger and I have had eight dogs in our time and it was hard to say goodbye to most of them, especially our last one because we knew she’d be the last. Dogs and condos don’t go that well together, Pauline
>
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Chuckles! >
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