Dogs

Each dog is unique.

One scruffs up her food
before it hits the bowl,
and the other waits
to make sure no more
is coming before she'll
dive in.

One feels compelled to
sit by the window and
bark at anything with a shadow.

The other will sleep through
a tornado, never caring what
may be threatening her habitat.

One wants to tear the porch
apart because a rabbit has
taken refuge, and the other
complains that her feet
are cold in the snow.

Awaiting an Answer

Sometimes I await an answer,
thinking, "if only I knew,"
and then I "get what I wished for"
only to find out that it
was not what I wanted.

One of the happiest people
I ever met was a man with AIDS
who had a short time to live.

I asked him what was the hardest
time for him. "Not knowing,"
he said.

Now that I have the answer,
I am up at bat once again.

I know the score.

What I don't know is how
fast the ball will come,
and what kind of curve
it will have.

Indecision

The cloud filled sky
caused the shadows to lighten
one moment and darken the next.

My dog awaits the intruder.
A vigilant creature,
she moves her head from side to side,
anticipating the enemy.

My wife shuffles through her life,
trying to decide what is needed
and what can be thrown away.
My compliments are returned
with "I could have thrown away more."

My Buddhist friend writes
that nothing has a permanent self,
and I wonder if everything
has an impermanent self.
Meaning that the gravel
around my pond has a self,
which would explain why
my now expired dog would chew
each rock and then spit it out.

An hour later, the shadows
completely disappeared because
of a beckoning storm,
and then,
a moment later, reappeared
as if spring was here.

Changes

and decisions.

Auto pilot,
mindlessly slowly
going through life
as if we are a self-controlled puppet.

Awaken,
get a cup of coffee,
go to work,
come home,
etc.
Not a very surprising life
until something ends or breaks.

Surprises.
The stuff that life
is made of.
Unexpected pregnancy, death,
loss of job, and we are startled
into a "reality check" reevaluating
everything we do and wondering
what we have done with our lives.

Changes. Yes to life.

Moving

Thinking about moving
is always a weaving of
sorrow and excitement.

A new life, augmented
by memories of the last
one, becomes a sort of reincarnation.

Early on, I discovered
that all places were the
same in that our reflection
is the same, no matter
where the mirror is hanging out.

Today we sold one piece
of furniture and loaded it into a van.
It has been part of our life
for many years and its place
is already taken by another piece.

Are we cold and ruthless to let go
of so much before our spaceship launches?

Melt Down

What ee called in just spring
I call "meltdown."

his was a celebration for the balloon
man, who "whistled far and wee,"
while mine is lamenting the possible
end of winter.

The frog will wake up and notice
that his limbs are a little stiff
like the balloon man who is first
lame and then goat footed.

The fish will become hungry and
notice that there are not yet
insects or vegetation to feed upon.

The ice will disappear in the
pond, never to be seen again.

My heroic neighbor,
an airplane gunner in WWII,
will rise up from his easy chair
to mow the leaves.

Spring is not all that it
is made up to be,
but in a pinch,
I'll take it.

4 Journeys

The waterfall
would not stop,
even if she had to slither
underneath the ice.

He took an interesting journey,
intending to go a recycling center
and instead ended up
at the Missouri river.
So much for Google Maps!

Exercising today was
going up and down the stairs
an infinite number of times,
unplugging this and plugging in that,
trying to be obedient to the
cable company help desk person.

We generate and/or use
lots of artifacts
as we grow: books, art, furniture.
Most of it ends up either
in a junk store or a dumpster.
It can be like quicksand.