They christened him Scut.

Have you ever sat and contemplated

The silence of grass growing

Feel the peace within.


Suddenly the screech of brakes

Turning on your heel, half afraid to look

He lies half hidden beneath the car


Chasing after dreams

Downed by heavy metal

Approaching, a dog howls when it hurts


There was silence

His world of black and white

Now shades of grey


The silence as the vet gives that injection

Ice cold filled with tension

Silence of disbelief


They christened him Scut

He was a great Great Dane

Without a complex.

(c) Chris Black. October 2018

~The Poet’s Poet~