Friday, May 2, 2008


Our dog, as usual, rousted by a squirrel,
gave chase across the grass from tree to tree,
gained ground when, suddenly, the critter stopped,
reversed its course, then doubled back again
eluding Gyp, and scampered up the palm
with Gyppy panting at the base, tongue out.

And then, somehow, the usually sure-
footed squirrel dropped down from fifteen feet
to thump by Gyppy’s paws, who pounced and snapped
and shook her mouthful back and forth then let
it fall and watched in wonderment her catch,
whose little spirit gasped and soon expired,
as its bright eye went still, still glassy but
now fixed, no more, no more, no more to move.