Contemplation

Reflecting that me ol’ mate Podge might be lost some 

where on the farm had me ruminating a bit more than 

I’m really capable of - he didn’t accompany me home 

at the end of our morning stroll; I assumed he’d found 

something interesting worth investigating - he’s a dog 

after all - and there’re fascinating things out there; but 

without giving away what they were, or where he was 

by usual frenzied barking, meant I hadn’t a clue, and 

That lead to wondering whether I need do something 

more than engage in these involuntary and accented 

glances at th’ lower hill track he usually comes home 

along; as nothing came in view while hanging out the 

washing I fix on a decision - we’ll crank up th’ mower 

and putter down to the Creek, innocent like, not in a 

Fractious or concerned manner - as it’d let th’ cat out 

of th’ bag; and so we saunter off, down to the garage 

where the ride-on mower hangs out, and something’s 

amiss - a large-as-life copy of yrs truly’s basking in th’ 

sun outside the spot he calls his office - his favourite 

hiding place; thus contemplation ends - & life without

Him isn’t introspectively on this day’s menu 

@17 May 2016, I. D. Carswell