Greg Watson

The yellow lab outside the coffee shop
today cannot sit still; but instead

radiates the ever-expectant energy
of a thousand hummingbirds,

tail sweeping back and forth
across the gray, littered sidewalk.

Sits without touching the ground,
knowing that any moment

the one who matters most will emerge,
slip his worn leash from the bench

and the day will suddenly fall into
place: every sound, sight, and aroma

discovered anew, the sun thrown
everywhere at once, with a cool lake

of shadow following, following,
as if it had somewhere to go.