Poetry Friday: the barking, barking dog

My neighborhood is noisy. We hear cars that speed down our street emitting music from super-enhanced speakers. We hear popping noises that could be cars backfiring (we hope). Sometimes, we hear the crash of cars in our intersection during the middle of the night, because someone thought it would be safe to run a red light. On weekends, we have various charities screeching, "Carwash! Carwash!" in the parking lot of the Grocery Outlet. In the moments between all of the human and machine-made din, the dogs bark. And bark. And bark. They're keeping the houses safe. I dedicate this poem to the barking dogs of my neighborhood:

Another Reason Why I Don't Keep A Gun In The House
by Billy Collins

The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
He is barking the same high, rhythmic bark
that he barks every time they leave the house.
They must switch him on on their way out.

The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
I close all the windows in the house
and put on a Beethoven symphony full blast
but I can still hear him muffled under the music,
barking, barking, barking,

and now I can see him sitting in the orchestra,
his head raised confidently as if Beethoven
had included a part for barking dog.

When the record finally ends he is still barking,
sitting there in the oboe section barking,
his eyes fixed on the conductor who is
entreating him with his baton

while the other musicians listen in respectful
silence to the famous barking dog solo,
that endless coda that first established
Beethoven as an innovative genius.

Today's Poetry Friday roundup is over at Shaken & Stirred.