Ajax

Rating: 3.4

that magic smell of
burnt wood
hangs over the antiseptic snow
as we walk and pull our sleds
the dog is
smiling and running
off a blinded white cliff drift
aerodynamically flying
into a snowy bank
that launches us
into laughter so hard
we can hardly stand
the fridged air
ripping through our chest
but the pain
is pure pleasure
as we make our way
to find
our faithful companion
buried up to his teeth
seeing only his
black eyes
poking thru the white

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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Duncan Wyllie 17 May 2006

Saved by a loving keeper and a wonderful poet 10 from, me Love duncan

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Michael Gale 15 March 2006

Poor frostbitten fridged pooch. Nicely done poem. Best regards-Mike Gale.

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Max Reif 23 August 2005

I feel so much fun in this!

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Mary Nagy 11 April 2005

Can almost feel the freeze.............Nicely done. Sincerely, Mary

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