Dennis

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Dennis

Dennis

With his antique vim and vigor
Dennis cuts a worthy figure.

He stands apart. He introspects.
His thoughts are veiled; quite circumspect.

The place he left, run down. Ill kept.
The treatment there? One word: inept.

He minced reluctantly into our barn.
He’s chomped with gums upon my arm.

He has a habit of getting stuck
in corners, by walls — sometimes with luck

I find him struggling, lolling with fight.
I join the galute and push with might.

I hoist that bony shopworn steed
until he rises. Gets up. Is freed.

A trying case if ever there was.
I love that horse. How come? Because.

He does his best to connect small joys
with gratitude, will and equipoise.

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Welcome , today is Wednesday, February 22, 2012