My dog's head hangs out the window,
breeze on his face with a little support for his hind legs.
Driving past California Street, but couldn't be farther from it.
The snow capped hill tops of Montana dissipate
as the season comes to a close. Porch light on
but the sun couldn't shine brighter.
Maybe I should turn that off & go back to bed,
as the voice of Mr. Rogers on the TV screen
urges me to take a nap.
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