I always watch people walking their dogs

Hounds, pooches, mongrels, all of the dogs, really

Their noses examine every scent for messages;

the canine secrets we can only imagine

 

On these walks, the owners reveal things

about themselves if you pay attention

to the way they move with their companions

 

Hints about their character, how they feel

about their pet, the way they care for them

Are they patient, or in the usual hurry?

 

In a rush, ignoring all of the mysteries and wisdom

canine olfactory instincts insist be investigated

just under a bush, or the nearby fire hydrant,

the ubiquitous hub of four-legged communication

 

I wonder if these dogs ever feel sad for us all,

ignoring the fragrance of a spring rose, just opened

The crisp bouquet of a Fall morning walk,

streetlights still on and humming – “does the light have a smell?”

Or do they pity us because we don’t see value in rolling around

on the grey-blue remains of dried-up worms?