Poem 20160117

sacked out
at my feet
the dog looks tired
tongue hanging out
where he is missing teeth

on the walk
he seemed lively
and we took a route
we rarely take
so we could hear the frogs
in the creek
whenever the cars weren’t
whooshing past us
and we had
a moment of stillness

he snores
i smell the scent
of wood smoke from chimneys
see the blanket of low clouds
not quite fog
listening again
to the throaty calls
of frogs

Poem 20150212

on the walk the dog stops
more than he should
to tear up blades of grass
and try to chew them with teeth
he doesn’t have
you don’t know anything
about the water they use
–is it reclaimed?–
to water the grass
or if there are pesticides
or hallucinogenic mushroom spores
clinging to the underside
of the leaves

you tell him to stop
pulling the leash again
and again
for his own good
and the next time he pauses
instead of eating the grass
he rolls in it
instantly a puppy
instantly forgiven
with blades of grass hanging
from his mouth

Poem 20141116

Did a ton of yard work yesterday and I was too tired to even think about writing a poem.  We’ll see what I can squeezez out today.

The coyote stopped
Stared into the flashlight
While we crossed the street
It’s coat was grey and shiny
It looked well-fed
Though I hadn’t heard about
Any missing pets

It kept its distance
We kept ours

The dog on the end of the leash
Who can’t see well in the dark
Didn’t catch a scent of his distant, wild cousin
Or there would have been whined greetings
But I think
The coyote appreciated
Our giving him his space
And he turned
And prowled the perimeter of the bushes
Looking for dinner