Elderly mutt
toddling, stiff-hipped
thoughtfully sniffs each stalk of weed
as if savoring
dog poetry.
When I urge her forward
with a tug of leash
she collapses with a yelp
so I help
pushing from the rear
a tangle of butt,
tail, furry legs.
In the wild
some predator would have
eaten her long ago,
feasted on her weakness,
that’s the natural order
of critics.

1/2/2015