There are so many more important things to be thinking about, from Woolworths’ continuing to make money out of problem gamblers to an Onion article about Sandy that rings too true for comfort, with the NSW government’s plans to destroy the employment prospects of thousands of aspiring artists somewhere in between. But the muse has handed me half a dozen dogs tied to a fence:
Sonnet 2: The Dogs outside Orange Grove Markets
The dogs line up at Orange Grove.
A Whippet whimpers, Shih Tzus yip
and won’t take comfort, Collies move
their twitchy eyebrows, Labs – so hip –
refuse to look abandoned, while
undaunted Staffies wag and smile.
It’s farmers’ market day. They’re tied
here while their owners go inside
for reasons past dogs’ understanding.
There is affection between species.
We house them, feed them, bag their faeces.
But now, resigned, sad or demanding,
dogs wait until, they know not when,
the rapture when we come again.
Me fail? I fly! 
I love dogs, of course, so I adore this poem. I adore well written sonnets too, so another reason to adore this poem…
Why no capital litter for whippet though?
I particularly love the undaunted Staffies, wagging and smiling!
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oops capital letter, not litter!
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Hi Carolyn. Thanks for commenting. The whippet now has a capital, and probably came from a first-class litter
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Excellent Jonathan!
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