I love my family and lick them
like a large and floppy dog.

A day's drive done I'm parked
before the house and sitting mumbleless
with numb. But they come running
to the car with yelp delight and climb
on fenders jump around or lean in
through the windows we all bark
at once and everything is pups.

Tag on the lawn, deer-dancing in the yawning
light, love tumble, space rompo, bushytail
jump and dairy cow rump, then sudden
rush the doorway so the last one in for supper
blows the sun a kiss farewell into the soffling night.

Prime woof of wag for bump, old savor
gravery gaber, whipper snapper tongue flipper,
shoulder heaver, chunk-chopping belly filber,
smoozlefoof in every overflowing dish.

Our friends flop by for biscuit pie
and lap-a-lup, then stroll the trees
till mellow under moon we circle up
to chew the bone about the dog who fell in love
with Saturdays and cats, the dog who climbed
down from a star, the dog who sang prayers
with the Queen,…who came back home in April,…
mourned for last year's laughter,…tied Death
to a tree,…

It's late. Wee whiffers all packed off to roam
Legkickerland. Grandfloppers lower head to paws
and wait to witness once again the silver
nurseries of dew, while giddy in the tipsy light
I call across the night to link with neighbors
in the hallow of the hundred barks. We raise
a final cheer, then look the silent watch, and here
are all the dogs of yesteryear.

Tom Koontz
Indiannual 1990