Two White Dogs
By Billy Jackson
Lugnut and Old Boy bark at a four point buck eating fermented apples under a gnarled old tree
They bark at joggers fit and annoyed at the intrusion into their ritual
Their shift starts before mine Before I leave And ends after mine Before I sleep
They howl at the sirens of police and firemen heralds of needed help
And they greet the delivery people so that they know they may not stay long
They ward off the wild things the raccoons and opossum and yell at the uncaring ravens to begone
And the Coyote's call the yammering yelps sing a song of battle in Lugnut's heart so he paces back and forth and whines – “Let me at em!”
Then in the evening they come inside, fences secure treats and headrubs and wrasslin
Until we all sleep Old Boy on the couch, sprawled out and Lugnut next to our bed, childishly close and wary as Cerberus
A response to the National Poetry Month prompt