The word: Labrador
“Would you like one of these cherry turnovers?” George asked. He was seated at the café table next to me and had just bought a pair of day-old ones on sale. Yes, of course!, always, please, thank you – I rarely allow myself such indulgences. While we ate our turnovers, I learned that today was his dog’s birthday and that she, lucky girl, would be getting a steak for dinner that night.
The Stranger: George
His Word: Labrador
The poem I wrote:
Always intended for work, with labor
bred into their name: once they retrieved
in the Labrador Sea, and before that
they were gun-dogs, unafraid of cold
or the noise of explosion. These dogs
were taught to track the fallen
in the Vietnam War, but not allowed
to return home. My Labrador took care
of a flockless goose all winter: nobody can say
that friendship isn’t a labor all its own.
The Challenge: Do you have a poem in you on this word? Write one here.