Gray Dog Sleeping 8:00 A.M., Wednesday Morning, across
the street, by Cherry Park, Lima, 4-23-2013
I don’t know why the huge gray mutt sleeps in
the street by our house, as if guarding us, and our two neighbors, waiting for
an invader, intruder or another mutt to trespass (only God knows for sure). But there he is nonetheless with his heavy
tail wagging to and fro, his big head hanging low, what’s his brain thinking, his
brain not thinking? That in some odd way he is protecting the image of God? Or
perchance, he just likes the chicken and turkey bones my wife provides for him.
The eyes of the mutt glows when my wife feeds him; to him she’s like a handsome
priest, I suppose.
I wrote this poem with the Holy Spirit happy in me—I guess that means
I’m having a heavenly morning.
#3844 (4-14-2013)
Note: Poetic Prose and the poem: first, in essence the poetic prose poem is a
short story, I believe. Second, an image centered on an object: expressed in
layers, in this case, a dog. Third, the mind does not leave the subject, as you
can see by reading “The Dog’s Longing” and forth, the tone is set in the first
sentence: “…the huge gray mutt…”. One must remember, it is not the stanza, but
the sentence we look at. The author also
uses metonymy in this poem, mutt, for dog, for instance.
