He stands at the edge of the field,
nose lifted like a banner in wind,
his tail orchestrating symphonies
only an animal\'s heart can understand.
They trail him, blond and blazing,
a choir of paws pounding earth,
their laughter translated through tongues,
wet and joyful, as nature intended.
My dog lives for this leadership,
his parade of wagging devotion,
charging into the day’s open arms—
a mess of fur and sunlight.
The grass bends beneath their chorus,
pawprints painted into the soil,
each blade whispers its approval,
sharing secrets only dogs can hear.
No whistle needed, no leash commanding,
he leads with the boldness of instinct,
the choreography of belonging,
a dance only they can perform.
I watch from the bench, amazed,
at the tiny general I call my own.