Black dogs among the mustard plants
Like huge, speckled bumblebees,
Foraging not for pollen but for scents,
A whiff of friends held on the breeze.
Their shiny fur dappled with golden dust
As if a fairy has participated in the fun,
Their morning romp intrinsic to their day,
Our habitual pleasure in fog or sun.
A coronet of pollen on their lush coats,
The sweet comfort of their smiles,
A halo of yellow reflects their good hearts,
Naïve to human duplicity and wiles.