You empty the box, chew
plastic to bits, eat cabbage
off my garden starts.
I yell Nooooo! You
on my foot, thump
your tail – slow, low.
I exhale hard. Take a
knee, wag my finger
in your face – back and
You whimper slight, stare me down with
brown and pleading – licking my
June has gone to the dogs – according to TweetSpeak Poetry.
Since I’m partial to wagger-woofers, I’ll try to share dog-ish things from around the ole ranchola in June.
This piece also fits the photoPlay challenge thrown down by the TweetSpeakers.