Sunday with Dogs

fiction, Personal Reflection, poetry 1 Minute 

Three men in baseball caps on Sunday’s oval:
this sublime morning (like Vivaldi’s violins)
elongates their shadow legs while
the leashes of the three small dogs 
tangle calves in random wind
until grown men must hop and wobble.

Spring’s tickling breeze, its infinite
busy fingers, plucks browned blossoms 
and drops them butterfly flitting to ground
or to land on cap brims; 
perched there like quivering moths – 
such weightless waiting.

The men turn as one, dog leads aligned;
amble through the petaled drift
toward a cafe, pitched with chairs
and round tables with glass tops;
their dislocated shadows shimmery green.
The dogs begin another slower tying.

Written for Miz Quickly’s Oct 23 Prompt

I can’t explain it briefly. Click on the above blue text and check it out. 🙂

Published by abigfatcanofworms

We all walk in the dark. But if we hold hands, perhaps the dark won't be as scary.

Published

5 thoughts on “Sunday with Dogs”

  2. I can see this clearly. Reminds me of a long ago trip to Italy, when the whole country seemed to have two hours off during the middle of the day! Even grocery stores were closed. The only thing open I think were cafes.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

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