La Noblesse

Henry's exhausted.

Yesterday Barb came home for lunch to find me semi-conscious on the floor, at the front door.
I had fallen and hit my head on a space heater, knocking it over.
The dogs righted the heater (also moving it out of the way), and Henry brought me my phone. He also brought a blanket, a book, and a DVD.

No-one taught him this.

He's just a natural, and loves his job, tiring as it sometimes is.

May I present (please say it French)
our deaf Pit Bull, Henri.
If you watch him at any length,
he'll cure your grey ennui.
Joie de vivre's his raison d'etre,
he lives life with elan,
and I will gladly place a bet
you've met not dog nor man

that shows such bright esprit de corps

with all the doggies, les amis,

and who knows how to shut house doors

to keep out all the l'ennemie,
who lives "Un vie heureuse, c'est moi!"
with gros bisous and flailing paw.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is INSTANT. I shall therefore write quickly.

In an instant life can alter

brightest plans for future days,

causing injured heart to falter

along what were trusted pathways

to a hope t'would be fulfilled

(thus, Gospel of Prosperity),

but the growing shoot's been killed,

lying cut for all to see.

And how do we pick up the pieces

of a hope quick-gone so wrong?

Has the devil taken leases

that silence the praising song,

or can we yet rise in our love,

hands raised unto our God above?

Three minutes! I'll never do that again.

Music from The Sandpipers, with Come Saturday Morning.

Sylvia approves. But Henry can't have her ice cream.