I think that I shall never see
A pee so lovely on a tree.
Against its trunk my leg is prest,
sweet flowing yellow on its breast.
A tree who waits for dogs all day,
Who lift their furry legs to spray.
A tree that May in Summer wears
A stream of yellow in its hair;
Upon whose bosom pee has lain;
For naught compares to yellow rain.
Such poems are made by dogs like me,
For only dogs can mark a tree.
A dog’s alteration of Joyce Kilmer’s lovely Poem, Trees, 1913.