March 21: Unexpected Muse

A furry interloper has arrived
And lay beside me as I tried to write.
And when I moved, he looked as though deprived
Of shelter on a cold, inclement night.

I let him stay, but soon began to feel
The furnace of his back against my leg,
So down the sheets and comforter I peeled,
Adjusting them so that he mightn’t beg.

And as I stroked his silky, sleepy head,
I realized my scruffy little dog
Inspired more by lying on the bed,
Than I had written in this evening’s slog.

When weary, and one’s goal is in the distance,
It’s nice to tread the path of least resistance.

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