Love it, love it, love it, love it, love it.
I take a sample from the atmosphere.
The summer wind blows leftovers I covet,
my tongue a sop to suck up seasoned air.

The fields fly past, cows monitor the road
for veering yapping, moo and drop their horns.
I eat a breath of beetles, laugh out loud
to be the dog and tell off their newborns.

Good just to be, my head out the window,
yelling at nothing till they shut me down.
On, on it goes, the hare on the windrow,
gulls pecking dust in a field out of town.

Bark at the moon, apparent at midday,
growl at the goat in the bitten-back hedge.
Take up a front seat, my whiskers muddy,
to yelp at the dangler on a distant ledge.