wagging articulation

the dog is watching, waiting for the one at the podium to throw the stick

but would that we were all so brilliantly excited when we see someone offering us signals, and theme, and a chance for the most wonderful game

i give to you, and you give to me

flicks of our wrists, both, and dancing eyes

we are all together throwing the music to the back of the church

listening to it erupt far, far away from us

we will always come back

i will always come back

the conductor holds the score, and i know it

the dog knows the stick, too, but still it jumps to run

endlessly entranced by the same game played differently

because it sounds, and it leaps, and it bounds

endlessly enthralled by the same people performed magnificent

because it smiles, and it waves, and it loves

i freely admit to being a voracious puppy hanging wild at the thin, blank end of the baton

i cherish that my big brown eyes blink wide open and scurry, ever so slightly floating, off the snoring grass of the same old couch

i'm watching, i'm watching, i'm watching

pick it up and show me - i'm there