Sunday, March 5, 2017


                  I’m ready now to summon up my Muse
                  In hopes she’ll scatter out before me clues,
                  As I throw nuts out to our backyard squirrels
                  Who then are chased by our two doggie girls,
                  And as I sit here listening to them squawk  
                  Atop a palm, proclaiming that a hawk
                  Or other predator is stalking them,
                  Which it is their sworn duty to condemn—
                  Though now tranquility returns, and I
                  Can ruminate and see what thoughts apply
                  Until a phrase occurs and patters on
                  In a pentameter not pale and wan
                       But zippy, like the squirrels that I’ve observed,
                       Who leave you fascinated, though unnerved.