Tuesday, January 24, 2017


                    I realize, while writing in this chair,
                    With Tig tucked by my hip, that I forgot
                    To feed the squirrels now waiting there
                    For the handfuls of nuts that I allot
                    Them every morning, freely cast about
                    The lawn and scurried after eagerly
                    While others in the trees still bray and shout,
                    Which I’ll interpret now as thanking me.
                    I’ve learned it’s best to keep Tiggy inside
                    Throughout this feeding frenzy of the squirrels
                    And Gyp as well, two dogs they can’t abide,
                    As much as such a romp would please our girls.
                         And thus our early morning ritual goes,
                         Which now has yielded something to compose.