I love it when friends talk in poem
titles, like this morning when Richard
shared a picture of his dog, Foster,
which included the phrase:
‘walking Foster on the wetlands’.
I couldn’t help myself.
I mean, when poem titles land
in your lap or at your ink worn
fingertips, a writer must write.
If someone, who loved me as much
as Richard loves Foster, would take
me on a walk on the wetlands,
but that’s for another poem.
For this poem, we are faced with one fine
looking dog, dressed in tuxedo black and
white, the very subject of this poem
himself, Foster, Walking On The Wetlands.
We can assume, as my comedic friend
remarked, that the Wetlands were a bit
wetter, after Foster had finished his walking.