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.


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