The Pegasus Prize
At dawn, let slip the dogs of joy, unloose
Them from crates and leads, boundless to barrel
Along the near unpeopled shore. No noose
To choke them back, they feel close to feral,
Teeth bared and hunting to run down the sun
Or seesaw sprinting into the fresh spray
To champ and tear at the fugitive spume.
Our border collie balks, whines her worry,
Paws the salt pools and shivers on the verge
Of so much horizon, yet goading gulls
Convince her to launch in blurring surge,
Forsaking her fears to pursue the call
Of roaring chaos that makes us feel free.
Yet how quickly we return to the leash.