Beetlebung and Kettlehole--April Poems

Walking Coco at Night

She’s not a maniac, blue blood, nor cur,
To dash and dart, she yips and brays in play;
The moon’s pale light gliding against her fur,
A blur on gray asphalt has made her bay.

She’s pulling on the leash through keener sense,
Delinquent? No. Yet, her growling jeers,
in grudging wit, an alien offense;
The rascal’s in my charge, pricking her ears,

And now, she howls to mourn a dead old rat
Lying in dark shadows behind a shrub;
I romp along, but fear she’ll spot a cat.
Wagging her tail, she eyes me with a snub

And sniffs around to find a cozy tree
To hear me cheer “Good girl!” lauding her pee.


Note: Coco, a lab-hound mix, is my daughter-in-law’s dog, now watching me write this sonnet for her, while her real owners “daddy and mommy” are off to a concert.

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Prompt: a sonnet (traditional or a contemporary variation)