i never tire of watching

there was a young cowboy
who wore a Red Ryder hat
and carried a small gun
into the nearby woods
where he found an old fallen log
and sat
with his faithful dog
by his side,
alert to anything that might move;
they pondered a future
when snow might cover their tracks.
in the space of seventy years
the small gun has been lost
but the dog,
with a new name and a new license,
maintains a nose for interesting scents,
and a keen eye for any movement
far removed from
the global financial markets
or fluctuating interest rates.
the dog loves digging
into dirt
after the chipmunks
as they dive for cover;
and squirrels of any color
always provide an exciting rush
as they scamper to the nearest tree
scolding the pretentiousness
of the canine pursuit,
which i never tire of watching,
even in the dead of winter.