raspy breathed sleep.Face and pillow encrusted in snot.
Burning up and crying.
We had to force the medicine,
telling him it was inside kisses.
“I’m running!” he exclaims,
darting into the room.
Darting out again.
His weary eyes begin to betray him
as he pushes his mower around the yard.
I watch as he walks slowly into the dog run.
A moment later I find him in the dog house,
sitting quietly watching the street.
He fights not to go inside.
This time his face is the betrayer,
with a look of relief as he climbs into bed.