Man-Made Watering Holes.


Man- Made Watering Holes.


The splinters

of winter crackle,
beneath my rubber

mallot boots.

The white sheets of

diamond studded glass,
stretch over puddles

of yesterdays rains.

They call me to cross

time frozen before me.

Like some strange

behooded god,
I fracture the

worlds below,
finding pleasure

in the crunch,
and in the tiny

ponds my steps leave.

Later birds will

sip the icy water,
of my fragile

walk on thin ice,
perhaps chirping

thank you's
to the beast

that granted
them sustenance,
perhaps not.











Just Fur A While.





Energetic fur balls
and pink tongues lapping,
tiny tails wagging.

What wonder is this
granted to us by God,
for just the

short duration
of 14 or so years
fate willing.

Cradled in our lap,
or yanking us across
acres of grass
on leashes,
they bring a

special joy
to our

humane warmth.

Dog is God

spelled backwards,
perhaps there is

deeper meaner there,
they  truly are both

man's best friends.

I have

buried many
but they still run
in lopsided joy across
the back fields of my mind.
and someday when I arrive
at heaven's gate, if worthy,
a multitude of

four legged friends
will bury me

in puppy kisses,
as God chuckles

with delight.








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