The smell of fresh cut grass and aging trees
I sense them both as I stand by Master’s knees.
I merely sit and blink awaiting one command.
I don’t even notice as people cheer in the stand.
Tense and ready, I prepare to bolt and run
My master looks down and smiles like the sun.
“Are you ready boy?” He whispers and grins
“You bet!” I bark out, waiting on pins.
He holds the disc back and time seems to freeze
All the while I eagerly await at his knees.
Then with one quick motion the world starts to fly
And the disc is released before I bat an eye.
The disc leaves his hand, flying away,
My muscles react without a delay.
Watching the flow of the disc through the air,
My legs pump move alone as if unaware.
Within no time at all I see the disc’s flight,
And adjust my legs to match the line of my sight.
It arcs and descends in a well practiced path,
And I think “Got you!” in my ecstatic wrath.
That disc always tries to make an escape,
Tricking my Master, and flying cross rolling landscapes.
With justice and pride, I jump and retrieve,
Perhaps, just perhaps, I’ll get a few minutes reprieve.
