Ogledoggle



Baby listens to the music of Dog running; plink plink plink; through the dry stalks in the cut field. I don’t know what she makes of this world, but she clearly attends to it. Solemn mouth imitates the sound of the wind in the trees; studious hand opens to gauge the movement of the air. Big eyes reflect the sky. Words of purposeful nonsense are addressed to us. 
‘Ogledoggle.’
‘Dog?’
‘Uh huh.’
I whistle Dog from her roaming: this is funny, belly laugh funny. A whistle conjures a dog. A happy dog at that. Dog’s tail wags in a circular motion, seems to propel her forwards. I listen to the music of the dry stalks, to the operatic snort of granddaughter. 


Comments

The Cranky said…
Love and joy; the deepest truths.
You've described this little scene so beautifully. Isn't is glorious to view the world through the eyes of a grandchild?
Lisa Southard said…
Thank you :-) It is indeed a scene of love and joy- Dog and Baby both have a fine view of the world!

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