Sometimes you just sit there alone
on a bench in the park feeling sorry
for yourself like the bereaved one at a funeral—
a Titanic sunk in an ocean of funk.

Then, go figure, assorted doggies,
tugging at their master's leashes,
come by to pummel you with their tails
and lick you rudely back to life.

When God runs out of angels,
He sends dogs— heaven's pinch hitters.
These creatures alone have grasped
what it means to be a human.


© by Richard Schiffman.
Used here with the author's permission.