Born Free

Beauregard calls it quits.

Nestled between a junkyard
and a churchyard, in rolling terrain,
Beauregard woofs big as big paws
Saint Bernard. A big black nose, a
ski-mask face in that the middle
white is ornate vase, a pattern
well-defined to us as pattern
recognizing beings.

He is the bodyguard big dog,
loves being so utilized as a Swiss Alps’
dog though Matterhorn is far away.
Yet collar keg seems apropos and
fluffy neck of said canine would
offer space to such iconic piece.

The farmyard is big valley land
between the folds of Earth there
seen, where dog of note runs
fast and free, in pant and
drool through glens
of dew.

Then from an, “on the prairie” shack,
she who’s guarded by our hero calls
him as she’s want to do. It is the
voice of Hildegard (his owner),
drifting o’er the land, mixing
with emphatic woof from
he who hastens
high and low.


28 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
2-7-20