Scratch My Ears
I hear the rustle of movement at the foot of the bed.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed.
As I do, the white ball of fur waits patiently.
She can’t risk my big legs hitting her head
As I swing sideways.
There. Now I’m sitting up.
She siddles close to me, head between my legs.
Flopped ears awaiting their morning grace
A kiss just above her eyes, between her ears.
Then, as if for the most perfect moment in life,
Hers or mine, she enjoys the scruffle of her ears.
The day begins.
The day begins.
It’s not all perfection.
Wait.
Don’t bark.
Sit.
Don’t pull.
Pretty soon.
Misunderstanding.
The head of either her or myself,
Cocked to the side,
As if to say, What are you thinking?
What am I thinking?
Walks, like flights to space, held because of rain.
Sickness of man or dog.
More tired now.
More stops along the way.
Scratch my ears.
Why must it be so hard all the time, I wonder?
There. Now, swing your legs over the side of the bed.
Lean down to all those who matter.
Plants,
The air.
Rocks.
People.
Kiss them on the forehead,
Or whatever.
As soon as you start to think,
What about this, what about that,
Just stop.
Then,
Scratch their ears.
The day is waiting.
All are waiting.
by Michael Davis
© 2026 Michael Davis. All Rights Reserved.