Photo by JF Brou
We are living under the shadow of uncertainty. The truth is we never know what will happen tomorrow. But today, tomorrow feels infused with an extra dose of disquiet.
I wish I were my dog oblivious to the virus. He curls up close to me caring not where I’ve been or what I’ve touched or whom I might have hugged. Suddenly the cockapoo’s ferocious bark belts from his body signaling scary things like leaf blowers and delivery trucks.
These are the big threats
to his little world.
I wish I were my dog.
The Author
Alice Smith lives in Chattanooga, Tennessee, with her husband Alfred and their dog Leroy. Together they have four children and four grandchildren. Alice is an introvert who has found her voice through poetic expression. She is the author of five collections of poetry, including That Little Girl.
Alice Smith, Lookout Mountain, TN