Year of the Dog

I'm a bit behind on a new new year's poem, but here it is.

Year of the Dog

The proud old cock still struts amongst the hens in the yard.
They don’t mind him much.

His crow no longer pierces the morning air.

Plum blossoms break through their icy cover.
Tangerines stacked like temples sit on the sill.

Under the house, a dog awaits the birth of her pups.
A young girl hurriedly helps her mother clean the house,

while her grandmother heats the stove’s flame.
Her father enters the yard.

The dog rests, her breathing labored. The hens scatter.
Father’s hands wrap around the old rooster’s neck.

Water boils.
The pups awaken to this world by their mother’s cleansing tongue.

Red paper hangs on the walls.