30th April 2017
Beneath the mountaineering flowers,
By chalky cliffs, for final hours,
Every sea dog’s out today,
Before the beach ban starts in May.
I wonder do old sea dogs know,
From extra pats, or longer throws,
That something strange is in the air,
Do you think they know, or care,
About the council dog days rule,
As they splash in rocky pools,
And when with sandy paws they run,
After balls, and just for fun.
Owners only own this sorrow,
Of dogless beaches, from tomorrow,
As like magicians from their sleeves,
Their dogs unwind on miles of leads.
And when October comes around,
They’ll race across the briny ground,
Like sideways kites on leads extended,
Old dogs will sense the unmissed ended,
And feel the sand in every paw,
Beached again, on sandy shores