Quoth the Cookie

Once upon an aft'r'noon dreary, while I pondered, snoozing, bleary,
Over the many cookies and treats forgotten by Mother's aging mind
While I nodded (almost napping), all at once there came a rapping
As of some dog's tail gently fwapping at my run-in's side
"'Tis just some canine," I muttered, "fwapping at my run-in's side-
No great cause to run or hide."

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was quite windy that December,
And each separate wisp of hay would blow; so hard for me to find.
Eagerly I wished the morrow - for rain free days (with sun to follow),
For days with Mother giving cookies and treating me so kind
Warm blissful hours filled with cookies (and treats) of every kind
Mrs. Pastures will do just fine.

Then the wind was surely bustling , and the shade cloth then was rustling,
Chilled me- filled me with a coldness I just couldn't quite define
So to quiet my rumbling tummy (and my shattered nerves need numbing)
I called for Mother to come (and bring the cookies!) in good time,
I just desire cookies now, at any - well, really, ALL times!
Mrs. Pastures will do just fine.

Then the noise I was hearing, (that fwapping sound most wearing)
Stopped abruptly as my neigh's dying echo in the air with it combined.
Quite suddenly, I was full awake. "Perchance Mother has brought for me cheesecake!"
And I braved the wind and staggered out, to find myself most blind
The blistering wind and rain -in my delicate eyes its path did find
Winter pasture is not kind.

The fwapping sound has ended. Oh, there's Mother with cookies: Splendid.
Yet couldn't she have brought them out to me while I was still dry inside?
She kissed my schnozzle sweetly, I picked the treats up neatly
And crunched with eager chomping at the goodness hid inside
Just munching happy cookies as the rain did pelt my hide
"Mother dear, you read my mind."