With The Dog

i recall rainy evenings
something or other
on the television
as i sat on the sofa,
placidly, with the dog,
his funny white face
on my lap, his eyes
half closed while i stroked him.
there was a fire to warm us
and now and then we had a nut.
then i was at ease with the world.

i recall windridden days
clouds piling up
over the grey-green sea
roaring forever
as i walked along the beach,
joyfully, with the dog,
the gale in his white fur
also ruffling my hair;
he jumped about excitedly,
his tail straight in the air,
his nose down on the ground,
following upon his short legs
the path i went along.
then i did love all the world.


Old poem of my own; I cheat and toot my own horn.-