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In innocence, the night began,
Like most of nights, by far.
But shortly after Sun had set
Two brutes raised heads to war.

The pig cloud and the dog tree were                                              
Outlines against the sky.
The fun began when lightning leapt
And struck the pig cloud’s eye.

The pig blinked not, but winked a bit,
And said it was a grin
He’d flashed across the evening.
His lie, not he, was thin.

He laughed as if it tickled him.
He snorted loud and roared
From rumblings deep within his bowels.
He was, and was not, boared.

The dog tree bobbed his head and howled,
As pig cloud belched the wind.
Dog’s boughing neck and branching legs
Did rub and creak and bend.

Dog would have wagged his tail at Pig –
…The problem, I suppose,
Was that his tail was rooted deep
Beside a rising rose.

Instead, he tossed his head about
To watch as Pig approached.
And would he run away with Pig?
The subject was not broached.

The whipping wind ripped some of Dog –
The eyes, ears, nose, and throat.
The pig cloud cried to see his plight,
Enough to fill a boat.

But dog trees grow more playful when
A pig cloud comes to call.
And so the dog tree barked and jumped,
And joined in the brawl.

Like dinosaurs they thrashed about,
Like monsters in the deep;
They raged and stormed most of the night,
So no one else could sleep.

Before the dawn could shine upon
Their comic-tragic end,
The pig had rained himself away,
And dog had lost to wind.

That night was such that folks would say,
“Not fit for man nor beast.”
But Pig of Cloud and Dog of Tree
Had fun, to say the least.    


© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2011.


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