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Watchdog

My littlest dog keeps himself extremely busy

with many tasks and duties, first and foremost

guarding this house against intruders, i.e.

screaming at any person or dog passing down the street.

Catching squirrels which includes stationing himself at

the base of the redbud tree for as long as he must

until they finally escape away in the treetops.

Carrying his many disemboweled stuffed animals

in and out in and out of the house all day long.

Yelling from the car at any dog or person

choosing to walk on any sidewalk or street.

Chasing off the raccoon and the white cat

that lurk outside the fence at night.

Preventing my neighbor’s dog from ever

leaving her home or entering her own yard.

Ingratiating himself to All who actually enter

our home despite his best efforts to keep them out.

Getting everyone to love him more than

Miles the hedonist (not working on Mother).

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Ways of the World

One might say strictly by accident

but is it really? is any of it not instead

merely the result of choices made

directions taken

knowledges acquired

preferences formed

or even still as some (not I)

like to say meant to be as if

each small thing the stubbing of a toe

the finding of a familiar face at the

Salvation Army Thrift Store

the turning left rather than right

are all somehow ordained, fated

therefore feted as some kind of

Perfect Order putting each of us

squarely where we belong at any given moment?

There are no accidents some (not I) will say

so certain so serious so firm but I believe

I will leave room for chaos chance choice

even courtesies of the divine in my makeshift

cosmology of the bittersweet ways of this world.

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Cake

Her brain was addled

from too much cake

(so they said)

though anyone knows

that cake will go

straight to your toes

(instead of up top)

and make you jig

dance til you drop.

She licked the crumbs

right off the floor

held up her plate

and asked for more.

Now she lives atop a tree

pining for you, waiting for me

waiting for anyone (truth be told)

who will bring her a cake

(she has a heart of gold).

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The Tuba Player

Walking through the meadow I heard

a distant familiar sound no bird no bark no human.

I stopped to listen.  Could it be?  Out here?  Bagpipes?

Indeed.  Following the drone I found a lone bagpiper

who quit when I arrived packed up ignored my shy applause.

No kilt, no delightfully odd look, decidedly unlike that

strolling tuba player who once captured my imagination

blowing old standards:  Button Up Your Overcoat

Good Night Irene, Moon River, Over the Rainbow.

Oh I could have fallen right in love with that tuba player!

Chose instead to write him into a little something

of a love story, charming whimsical and spare

leaving my romantic notions perfectly intact.

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Friendship

Crows peck and hector a red-tailed hawk

but I fret over a friend who has closed a door

shut herself for whatever reason I cannot know.

I step carefully asking but even still

closed shuttered locked I won’t be told.

I have witlessly lost a friend unlike the hawk

who never had one never cared to but I

whatever I have done however I have changed

gone wrong disappointed failed to please

the result is all that’s clear.  I am no hawk

and I’ve lost a friend.

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Hopes & Dreams

Hanging onto my hat I leap towards

my life’s next appointment not knowing

quite where or with whom figuring

I will recognize it when I get there

I will hear my name called

feel the rightness of the moment

and breathless with anticipation

jump to my feet holding out my

hopes and dreams like a sheaf

of papers in a folder.

Here, I will say.  Take these.

I have another copy.

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Turning of the World

Oh the lacy light of summer

favorite and best slanting across

early in the morning and if one

sleeps too late lolls awake fails to take

oneself (one’s dogs) out in the

world of it soon enough

well then it’s another thing

and one has missed that thing

but then there’s this and on and on

that goes for everyone knows

the world keeps turning

all things change

moment to moment

for better or worse

’til death do us part

and then who knows

maybe

after that as well.