New Poem by Doug Sparks

Dog Walk at Harold Parker

By Doug Sparks

We walk in the woods when I should be at work.

Walk — that’s a word easily defined —

Unlike work — of the hours and the days. Shadowed by

Diogenes (I’ll spare your looking him up — an Ancient Greek,

He was not a god but a dog), I continue on.

My open palm catches falling leaves;

A warm day in the folds of autumn.

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