Waltz

She hates the rain in her eyes, on her coat, her paws slip
in the swamp that is our backyard.  Like her maid I grab the umbrella.
Circling, circling, circling around the yard her nose to the ground,
the umbrella catching up as she turns to come inside. At the door
she looks up at me believes I control the rain.

Later she wakes up,  stands next to my side of the bed, panting. It’s
midnight, just sprinkles, yet no change of attitude. I am in servitude
in my pajamas. The polka dot umbrella in my hand as the full moon
slips from behind the clouds. We have moonlight, I am happy,
stumbling, circling and circling, circling as we have a fruitful waltz
without stars.