My dog just stands there, rooted in place,
A thoughtful stare on his noble face.
No rush, no scurry, no plan to roam,
He stands like a cow in a patch of home.
The world may spin and the rain may fall,
He answers none of its urgent call.
No bark, no bolt, no dramatic flair—
Just legs locked firm and a soulful glare.
Birds may gossip, balls may roll,
Time itself can lose control.
Still he remains, profound, aware,
A quiet monument who simply stands there.
