The dog looked through through the open door and
Refused to venture into the rain.
Above our heads thunder rolled, and rain came down in
Stair rods, tamping down and beating
The compost in the backyard pots into sodden
His coat adjusted, another tug on the dog’s lead
Persuaded him to venture out, looking
Unconvinced by my explanation that there is no such thing as
Bad weather, only bad clothing. While I
Hunched inside my coat and pulled my cap peak down
The dog hugged the backyard walls on the
Windward side of the lane, taking shelter where he could.
By the time we reached the open space the rain was
Abating, and the dog ran tentatively to the long grass
Parting the soaking fronds with his nose
Knowing the vixen’s scent should be there, but
Discovering the squall had washed it away.
Turning our backs on the copse where the vixen
Sheltered with her cubs we headed home, dog wriggling inside his coat
My cap pushed back to make it easier to see the early morning traffic.
Thunder passed, and soon enough dog was dry and curled up on the sofa
Where I was eating breakfast and planning my day.
Thunder had passed, and coats were discarded to dry for the next time.