PoetryChroma Magazine

Red Dog

PoetryChroma Magazine
Red Dog

by Marc Woodward

 

When it rains round here

there are no yellow dogs.

 

Hematite stains Labradors.

Even Devon cows are red.

 

Green-haired sandstone bluffs

slide in bloody surrender.

 

Down along the undercliff

the gravelly sand is red.

 

Tourists clutching white towels

resemble accident victims.

 

Uncharitable souls might say

it looks like Hell at sunset.

 

Still, we make our choices.

I'd suggest a Red Setter.