It was 3:53 a.m. when I awakened
from a most delightful dream
about a group of little dogs
sniffing at me and wagging
with their whole bodies
and begging me for love
from my fingertips.

I savored the dream for a time
and then began to get silly:
Dogs can be dear but they can’t be deer.
Deer can be dear (I assume) but can’t be dogs.
And you could respond
to this early morning silliness: “Oh dear.
such nonsense from a poet!”

Eventually I rose from my bed
but I still feel some residue from my dream.
There is nothing I can do about it, I think
but take my fingertips of affection
and hope they can translate the love I felt
into my laptop and then on to you.

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