I always watch people walking their dogs
Hounds, pooches, mongrels, all of the dogs, really
Their noses examine every scent for messages;
the canine secrets we can only imagine
On these walks, the owners reveal things
about themselves if you pay attention
to the way they move with their companions
Hints about their character, about how they feel
about their pet, the way they care for them
Are they patient, or in the usual hurry?
In a rush, ignoring all of the mysteries and wisdom
canine olfactory instincts insist be investigated
just under a bush, or the nearby fire hydrant,
the ubiquitous hub of four-legged communication
I wonder if these dogs ever feel sad for us all,
ignoring the fragrance of a spring rose, just opened
The crisp bouquet of a Fall morning walk,
streetlights still on and humming – “does the light have a smell?”
Or do they pity us because we don’t see value in rolling around
on the grey-blue remains of dried-up worms?