I sit on the new mown grass,
even though it’s hard to get back up,
because the smell is intoxicating.
The maple tree I rest my back against
is wide, sturdy, and rigid.
I watch, as the dog listens.
Runs.
Turns on a dime.
He is in his element -
the sheep are his focus,
the man’s voice, his guide.
The sheep are on a full run.
Away.  Come bye.  Walk on.  That’ll do.
Resting, panting, watching,
Waiting for the next time to go to work
and fly like the wind.