Many have asked if these proud hounds are mine
In truth, I am blessed to belong to them
Without them, on sand I would nightly dine
A hunter's eye is a rare, precious gem
Do I use these regal runners to hunt?
No more than the tide uses the bright moon
I simply follow their instructions, blunt
Without their noses, I'd be lost quite soon
Preening and pompous are most human souls
Prone are they to treat animals like things
For their ears and ours, the same old bell tolls
News of birth and death, to us all it brings
These hounds rule these sands; I am their subject
To being called theirs, I do not object
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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