Honey Dog, by Lori Zavada

A springtime enthusiast
studies the waxy lemon shine
of April through the glass door,
slaps his amber tail on the tile floor.

He apprises me of sun slinging its gold,
liriope straps doing backbends,
coreopsis being happy coreopsis.

His gilded receivers detect
a symphony of cheeps, chirps, and squawks.

He drool-schools me on pine warblers
               and slender green anole
               whose bright red coins
               pulse in the rising heat.

But the joyful Mockingbird
               thrills him most,
               mimicking the playlist
               of his favorite season.

I think of Honey Dog
in this season of revival.

I want to run behind him,
holding that tattered red leash,
both of us panting uncontrollably.

I want the struggle of keeping pace
with him ahead of me,
solid gold, steadfast, transformed.

–

Lori Zavada writes poetry and prose steeped in insight and imagery of nature and the human condition. Her poems can be found in Amethyst Review, Oprelle Poetry Collection, WayWords, Emerald Coast Review, Nobis II and her chapbook First Flight. She engages with a community of talented, supportive writers in her quaint coastal town.