It’s the way they are together.
It’s the way they are in no rush, no rush at all.
He licks the inside of her forearm.
His owner, she looks off –
up into the trees.
We do this: wait
(for the oldest of all kinds).
The old dog outside my office window
holds tumors beneath his belly skin.
Like udders, they swing.
If you leave a soda can on the lawn
bees begin to hover. They know to come.
Ants lift a blue chip.
Nature rivets. Screws me
into dramas, in the kitchen, past the yard.
Behind the house a black snake tried
to swallow a brown frog. It gave up.
Slithered to the brush.
Gleaming in snake spit, the huge frog
sat, stunned in the sun.
A hamster eats her gummy stillborn, now
more protein than progeny.
Like the tree knows when to fork itself.
10 whales washed up.
8 bottle-nosed dolphins too.
Volunteers came quickly. They found
some alive and picked at. The gulls did it.
On stretchers, the dolphins clicked & clicked.
Copyright 2River. Please do not use or reproduce without permission.
|The 2River View||Authors Poems PDF Archives 2River|