Living With the Zoomies

I wish I was my dog, 
keeping the scent of
spring sunshine on 
everything forever inside.

How I envy this creature 
that knows sky is the color 
of all the aromas of nature,
that beauty is the crush of   
every nose that breathes
in its reeling sunlight.

It must be so delicious 
for him to sniff the 
scintillating buzz of silence,
to know not the hours 
as a singing wound.

Oh, how he lives in
a parkour state when he 
returns joyously home—

bouncing from chair to 
sofa to couch, finally 
to my wife, eager 
to lick this feeling
into her every pore—

zoomies so strong 
that they can only be 
contained with 
shared breaths.