Mouse

He called
to tell me
he had caught a mouse

and wondered what he
should do with it.
Where was it?

By the fireplace.
How big was it?
About two inches.

What should he do with it?
Is it a baby?
I don't know.

You could flush it
down the toilet,
but how about

letting it out
a block from your house.
Okay, thanks.

PLEASE COMMENT BELOW: WAS HE SHOWING COMPASSION BY SEPARATING THE MOUSE FROM IT'S MOTHER? WAS IT NICE TO THE FOLKS WHO LIVED A BLOCK AWAY TO LET IT GO BY THEIR HOUSES?

The Colony

As I step
off my porch,
I see a colony

of ants scurrying
around, with no
time to spare.

We wonder
if humanoids
are too busy,

until we
study these ants——
fine creatures,

as serious as could be,
working as if their
lives depended on it.

We take vacations,
sleep, and retire.
The ants only nap
sixteen minutes a day,

and for the rest of the time,
work, work, and work,

preparing their next
meal for themselves,
and their nieces and nephews.

PLEASE COMMENT BELOW: WHEN DO WE CALL THESE CREATURES OUR FRIENDS, AND WHEN DO WE PUT OUT THE ANT TRAPS?

Soup Kitchen

Classical music,
of the finest quality.
But afterwards,

a gluttonous reception.
Food galore,
with lines forming

at each table.
Are we that hungry
or that greedy

for sweets and
high fat treats
that lead us

to the grave like
the sirens on the
the rocks?

Are we products
of the great depression,
or the unholy holocaust,

never knowing
where our next meal
might come from,

or whether
it will be
at all?

PLEASE COMMENT, ANSWERING THIS QUESTION: AM I BEING TOO SENSITIVE ABOUT THE WAY EVERYONE EATS. IS THIS MY OBSESSION?

That Mighty Villian

How oft are
we frustrated?
When we are late and

the light won't turn green,
or we go to the gas pump
and wait for that woman

talking on her cell
to move her car
Or or or.

We expect better,
that life will go
like clockwork,

swiss clockwork,
that is, keeping
time so precisely

a second is not
lost. Yet we get sick
and injured, and we die,

always with a
surprise on
our face saying

"how could this
happen to me."
Perhaps

all these
seemingly catastrophic
events are not

that mighty villain,
but actually
the stuff of life.

The Runaway Book

How many times
in one day
do we lose

a good friend
only to find her
moments later?

We set down a book
and can't remember where.
We search and search all

the obvious places
and she is not
to be found.

We nervously zoom
though the house,
in a somewhat frenzy,

wondering if the runaway book
might have walked off
on her own.

We hold our breathe,
not wanting to waste time
as we run up the stairs

to check the bed stand.
And then back downstairs
to check the living room, the dining room, the basement.

And even the dog bed.
"Where is that book,"
we wonder.

Just before giving up
and calling it a cruddy day,
we catch a glimse

of her frayed cover
under a magazine.

Is that the book?
We say a prayer,
lift the magazine,

adjust our focus,
and once again we take another breath.
She's back!

Dad's Golf Bag

The old canvas golf bag
collected dust bunnies
in our summer cottage

waiting for my father
to return from the
hot Chicago summer.

From time to time
I'd take out the
putter and

dig a hole in the backyard
and try to bear down
on the grip

focusing hard to sink
the one worn ball
that we had.

Each summer I'd ask my dad
if he had ever used
those clubs.

He'd say that he did
and that one summer
he'd go out again

with his archaic canvas bag
and that one single ball.
I never quite

believed him
but thought,
maybe someday,

I'd take the bag out myself
to those neatly trimmed
rolling hills.

The cottage and the clubs
are now only a faint memory.
My dad's ashes wait

for next summer
when it will be
just the right day

for his attempt at
that elusive
hole-in-one.

Is Anything Passive?

I look out
at an old chair
on our patio.

It has not
been moved
for a month, and

even through rain and wind storms,
it is stoic
and immobile.

Yet when I glance at her feet,
I see her holding on
for dear life,

to an earth
revolving around the sun,
a sun moving in a galaxy,

and a galaxy
floating in an expanding
universe.

Hummingbirds dart so quickly
that they perceive humans
as statutes.

I suspect they are moving
just a minuscule faster than my chair
or even a stone Buddha.