Things With Strings

See that small farm right there
See those young and old kids

Mine and his

Toys and mischief, solemnity and instruments strewn about
All things with strings — what heaven these things

Animals, there’s no choice

Alpacas, needing to wake us at dawn but, agreeable, settle in for the night before our dinnertime

Ebony dogs and snowy white chickens
No cows, but a cowboy

Keeps his white hat far back in our closet on a shelf and never puts my heart on a shelf

Comes home from work on time and Saturdays are his and mine

We get greasy together under the cover of some good old American steel

In the polebarn back there, muscle-bound memories we rebuild

Sundays are God’s, he says — how he leads the way, putting all striving aside for the day

On his knees each night in prayer

No need to prove himself to me ever again since he put me on a pedestal there in his heart of gold

Our house on a hill, our kids and our farm

His eyes and his time and his life

His gifts to me, Amen and Amen

Hot Breath

Canine king, find me, follow me

Whether dinnertime or downtime
Hot breath on my heels
Chops pressed ‘gainst my calf

Clickety-clacking claws, be unwilling to leave me be

Guard my steps, as I’m prone to frolic with frogs
Looking in wrong places for princes

No sixth-sense nonsense, your love

ink dogs

An abrasion there, on an inky finger, both hard-earned

Zest and zeal in the palm of a humble hand

Awestruck there

The noise is different down here, though

Mad-dogs and hurricanes at your back

A inhumane society nipping at random achilles

Sleepless here