On the Relevance of Fluff
The dog sits mildly beside me
As I tap away at an unforgiving keyboard
Frowning at metaphors that won't play out
He pants and thinks deep thoughts
Or maybe shallow ones, I can never tell
But he seems, if nothing else, happy
As my hand falls away from work
To rumple his fur
I get to thinking about fluff
While I run my fingers through
His abundance of hairs
How he delights in the sensation
How little it takes to make his tail
Thump quietly on the floor
When all-important things
Are flying querulously about my head
He nudges a flocky ear against my hand
And makes me wonder if perhaps
The fluff could be the best part
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Oh poems...No good can come of this.
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