My boon companions lead off
into everywhere far and near
destinations of the heart
beyond the rock cairn
built by others ignoring
the sycamore’s pointing arm
clambering over the difficult
bluff knowing something raw and loose
seeing something I cannot
patiently leading on and on
without recompense.
Ah! just in time and not a second too soon
not a moment to lose and just in the nick
by the literal scruff of the neck the poison’s
applied to kill the army of ticks that latch
(oh the jaws that bite the claws that catch!)
onto my dogs and yes oh yes it’s true
I cannot deny it me, two-legged me, as well.
Och! I live this summer in paranoia
worried I might be out and about fine dining
nicely dressed clean coiffed made up
suddenly feeling the creepy crawling
on a leg an arm or worst of worst my face!
I’ve heard such stories, known of such things
and oh how easily it could happen in this hot
hot summer following a too warm winter
no harsh conditions to lay the beasts low
and me lacking the heart to ban my
darlings from my bed oh it could it could.
And after all, you know what they say,
Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t
mean they’re not out to get you.
They are no phantasm and out to get me
they certainly are. They are.
Breakfasting on wild blackberries plucked on the fly
as I follow the familiar path, my two reckless dogs
barreling ahead turning now and then to make sure
I am still coming along, their rows of teeth
making crazy grins. Come on! they seem to say
for they have no interest in blackberries or wildflowers.
They don’t even know it’ll be a short walk today,
things to do, places to go, people to see, but still
for them, every moment counts. Come on!
Something great might be around that bend!
Come on! And I do, I follow, knowing
full well that they are right.
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).
The other night I woke to my two dogs
barking incessantly from the foot of my bed
the catalyst a large white-tailed deer
standing at the corner of the yard
clearly debating what to do about
all the fences everywhichwhere
among the yards on my street.
What to do where to go what to do
which way to jump whether to jump at all.
I too am unsure what to do where to go
how to get there once I figure it all out
fences of another kind blocking.
But unlike that deer I have
short legs and am not much
of a one for jumping.
I wonder how I will be in old age
how cheerful how content how firm or infirm
how gently I will think of myself and others
with what aplomb I will approach the various
obstacles that fall across my path and
whether or not any small dog(s) will trot
along the path beside me or race ahead in
their exuberance pulling my old bones
along on their careening caravan of youth.
Full to the absolute rim of my cup today
inspirations shooting through my brain
a veritable fountain a plethora an avalanche of possibilities
lightbulbs popping on, one after one and another!
No time to loll or lollygag no dawdling allowed.
The doing is now the thing oh how the doing calls.
My two dogs snore dreaming unaware of my
epiphanous revelations.
When I am away do you pine?
As I do?
Do you see another–about my size and shape
whose coloring resembles mine–and sigh?
As I do?
Do you catch a familiar scent on a puff
of air and find me in your brain?
As I do you?
Do you search with your eye for some small
crumb of me in each who passes by?
As I do?
Do you, dogs of mine?
As I do?
Dogs lie patiently
watching me for signs that say
Now we will go out.
Friday the thirteenth
came and went
brought no particular
good or bad luck with
its coming and going
no ill will in the woods
or elsewhere
just rain rain rain
just two wet dogs
the bringing out of
a striped sweater
a rawhide bone
the scattered stuffed toys
lying soaked in the muddy yard
as if fallen in battle.