Saturday, February 20, 2016


                  While some remains lie in half-acre tombs,
                  Admired in their cemetery plots,
                  I shall abide in sonnets’ pretty rooms,
                  Admired only as my skill allots,

                  And so each day I build my heritage:
                  Each rhythmic word laid down is like a brick
                  In a large structure that in time will bridge
                  The awesome gap between the dead and quick.

                  But now our little pup, who wants her walk
                  And gives no thought to what is moribund,
                  Whose chief concern is squirrels she can stalk

                  And other pleasures in our daily fund,

                      Reminds me: “Carpe diem is the way;
                      Instead of morbid maundering—come and play!”