Buddy loves the park,
a long, green field
at the top of a hill.
He doesn’t like to go
into the redwoods. He’s a smart dog;
he must know that the grove is a national park
full of animals who already live there.
Instead he runs in giant circles
end to end, pulling me along
until we’re tired enough
to lie in the grass.
He licks my face,
then sits with his whole body
over my legs.