In the field by the lake he jerks at the lead
with all the vigor of his two years;
Even at a distance the Canada Geese
that have usurped this undulant expanse
sense his canine enthusiasm,
and all together now they rise,
like a ruffled quilt,
filling the sky momentarily, momentously,
before dropping again beyond the water’s
protective edge.
Oh Jake, Jake
Why do you look at me in amazement?
Yes, I know. You just want to play.
Well, don’t pull so hard.
Can’t you read those signs?
Pets must be leashed. It’s the law.
And I’m fully aware
that if I let you go, in a moment
you would be out there,
swimming with those birds
in the middle of the lake.
Lieberman writes: “My main preoccupation has evolved from surgical procedures to poetic ones, and to walking my dog, mostly on the paths in the woods at the Institute, becoming an observer, instead of a doer, partaking of foods for the intellect and feasts for the souls, that surround us.” He lives in Princeton.
