A Day at the Beach

by Ray Yost

CRASHING surf and a setting sun
On the vast, empty beach
The dog and I are the only living figures
In this diorama (save the shrieking gulls).

I toss the Frisbee and off he runs
Over and over with excited puppy barks
Returning this odd disk each time
So that I will toss it again

I fling the disk and it sails behind the bluff
Off he runs and soon returns
But what is this?
Certainly not the pie-platter toy I tossed?

We hike around the point
Over the slippery rocks
Almost sliding on the wet, seaweed stones
Up the hill, he barks as a command, and I follow.

Yip, Yip, he stands and barks,
Is this it, boy?
Scattered bones in the silty soil
A mass grave exposed.

A sonorous woof and low growl
Call the police? I ask, why of course
Another short bark
Yes, the forensic scientists too, I answer.

A mournful sound escapes his throat as he lies down
Paws in front and head resting atop
A femur? I ask, Yes, you may have it
There's lots, I don't think one will be missed.
Good boy!

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