Daisy was up early this morning. The neighborhood was still asleep when I took her out to the side yard. As I was waiting for her to finish up and head back inside, the first four lines of Rupert Brooke’s poem, The Little Dog’s Day, flashed through my mind.
All in the town were still asleep
When the sun came up with a shout and a leap.
In the lonely streets, unseen by man,
A little dog danced, and the day began.
Not exactly sure why that particular poem came to mind. Daisy doesn’t do much dancing in the morning. She’s more of a take a nap after breakfast kind of gal.