Sundog By Amanda Lowe

I have my yellow boots on to walk the dog who is scratting at the door, he knows it's time to go. Outside, he's running ahead like a mad thing as my yellow boots squelch flat fields, left foot, right foot. Striding along the bank, lost in thoughts, I stop and gawp at a sundog, reflection of the sun in the sky. The sun and its doppelganger side by side, striving to outshine each other. My dog, chasing pheasants, has better things to do. I stand, yellow boots squashing mud. Watching the sundog fight, and retreating, defeated, tail between legs.

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