Open door, cool cave,
Green with white oak fungus,
Two dogs lying, tongues lolling.
Dark square patches of cubist shade,
Sun flicks over the leaves
But the deep, dark shade keeps
The dogs heads turned, to wait
Watch for the car’s return; and lie
Panting and dozing in the sun-flecked dapples.
The world goes by with three human noises.
Let the mad dog humans
Follow their frantic pursuits
Tapping a roof, vacuuming
And the tinkle of the ice cream van.
Let them disturb
The comfortable solitude of the summer afternoon
With their frantic bustle.
We will lie here;
Ears and eyes and limbs all smiling
In the deep glade shade
Under the tunnel of oak.
Penelope Dumere © 2008