LITTLE DOG’S RHAPSODY IN THE NIGHT
By Mary Oliver
He puts his cheek against mine
and makes small expressive sounds.
And when I’m awake, or awake enough
he turns upside down, his four paws
in the air
and his eyes dark and fervent.
“Tell me you love me,” he says.
“Tell me again.”
Could there be any sweeter arrangement? Over and over
he gets to ask.
I get to tell.