Dogsday

Lately the smoke from the burning bushes
Has the eye and the mouth tasting ashes
For the price we've the haze of Olympus
Ambling by the Children's Farm
Imitating the river's calm
Liberated, the heart, from alarm
On this dog's day

While it lasted the morning long
Came the feeling of something wrong
As you knew that it would before long
A grave expectation
So the hackles did raise some
O it never stays under even on
A dog's day
You start looking for targets for your arrows
A bloody sheath for your eager blade
Dark clouds for the sun to shroud
On this dog's day

Hills become mountains, sheer cliffs beside
Fickle elation meekly turns its tail, digs a hole and dies

The shrill cries of battle from gamboling spawn
Terriers come at a clip across the lawn
The mothers' competitions, the fathers' stifled yawns
In this hazy picnic season, light beer and gentle treason

Why would it give rise to an anger?
Could this city outdo its own languor
While tumbling bodies of children figure
As targets for your arrows
Little marks for your seasoned eye
Such a violence underlying this dog's day
Why don't you dispense with your secrets
Give your rambling blood a rest
Let the world be kind to you on this dog's day