It was dark and still.
The flakes were as big as saucers
In the black night.
No one had scarred the white blanket
That stretched along the South side
Of the building.
He was a dog, five, going on six.
He had never seen this white expanse before.
It didn’t snow much in these parts.
But there had been diamond-clear days
For days before. Unusually cold, they
Had chilled everything to receive the dusting.
So, as the warm air collided.
Down came the wet snow,
Before the rain and warmth moved in to erase it all away.
And in the wonder of that snowy blanket, covering his lawn
He gavotted with joy formidable,
Scarring the clean white landscape.
So excited by this new and unique experience.
The cold melting with the heat of his paws.
The taste of the large flakes on his tongue.
He barked in sheer delight, his butt arched high,
While he leaned his chest into the puffy snow.
In the morning it was gone to muddy slush.
© Richard A. Martin, Jr., MD, CPC, 2016
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