Our little hound
loves to nose the ground,

sniffing grass and leaves
where aroma symphonies

sing to him. So today,
parked at the store

his old brown eyes beg
to leave the car.

Each stone, leaf, weed
he meets is new

as he pushes his
gray muzzle through

savoring the delights
of his much shorter life.

We return to the car
where I grieve for him

when, before jumping in,
he pauses for a last look

back at the world
he’s about to leave.