March drabbles - 4

Old bones grow stiff in winter. So says the man. So says his dog. And fireside warmth is comfort to their souls. But now the ground is softer. Squirrels roll. Birds scream and play. Grass-blades are turned to carpets and the sullen mud retreats. Spring-time is nice. So says the man. So says his dog. And twice a day they walk. Old man sees woman, stops to talk. And little dog meets dog. If it should rain they’ll hurry home, his house or hers, and people will drink tea; water for dogs. Old bones stop growing stiff when spring returns.