When did he go gray?



When did he go gray?

It’s very hard to say

As days spill into one 

Though we count but none.

Longing for new surprises

 cherishing old surmises.

The warmth of summer sun

Blends slowly to raking fun.

Soon fall and all its winds

Of change and threats and sins

Are  kindled  before a fire

Including new ideas which conspire

Filling memories, also fleeting

Of frozen feet and all the teasing

Stretches in full downward dog

No need to make that new slog

Such ideas that easily allow 

Those lost robins who follow

Flocking well into tomorrow.

Much better spurn the thought

That all may be for naught.

Happy to recall as day brings day

Spaniels bound with feet of clay

Labradors need their rest 

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