A PLEA TO KEILLOR

                    With this verse I’ll make yet another plea
                    To Garrison that he not leave his show:
                    The Prairie Home Companion would not be
                    What it has always been were he to go
                    Because it is imbued with his own wit
                    And style and personality and grace,
                    By which each weekly episode is lit,
                    And we at home feel as a fond embrace.
                    Who else can take us to Lake Wobegon?
                    Who else has a beguiling baritone
                    Like his, or can such fictive figures don
                    As Guy Noir or Dusty?  He alone.
                         It’s true all good things must come to their ends,
                         But on your genius APM depends.

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SERMON

                    “You be the preacher.  Let’s hear what you’d say.”
                    “Well, I don’t think I’ll talk to you of God
                    Or of some Decalogue you must obey
                    Or tell you you began as just a clod,

                   For I’m not into such mythology;
                   What is most apt is how we should behave.
                   Instead of arguing theology
                   Or listening to how rival preachers rave.

                   It simply comes to this: we’re here to love—
                   It’s kindness we must learn for our own kind,
                   And this no other teaching stands above,
                   And toward this we are naturally inclined.

                      Though some have been perverted toward sin,
                       It’s only by our graciousness we’ll win.

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THE MIND OF A DOG

                     Can animals imagine as we do
                     And recollect past images they’ve seen?
                    Just watch a dog asleep and you
                    Will be convinced she has a mental screen
                    On which she views projections from the past
                    And re-enacts a scene of joy or terror—
                    Perhaps encountering a cat who sassed
                    Her, or brightening at the sight of her food-bearer.
                    Besides that, though, she can anticipate
                    Remote events that haven’t happened yet,
                    Like waiting by the door when we’re out late
                    Or hiding when it’s time to see the vet.
                         Watching our dogs, it’s evident to me
                         They have foresight as well as memory.

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COMMENCEMENT

                    Now you’re at last about to graduate,
                    Prepared by your collegiate days to give
                    Your fruits of learning and articulate
                    What you have found of how to rightly live,
                    For that’s what liberal studies aim to do—
                    To liberate you from the darkness of
                    All kinds of ignorance and pursue
                    Not only useful knowledge but the love
                    Of wisdom—education’s highest aim:
                    To understand what’s valuable to do
                    For its own sake and to avoid the shame
                    Of not attaining what you should pursue:
                         The good life that’s productive and sublime
                         Lived by the principle that love is prime.

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HUMAN EVOLUTION II

                    Which way will human evolution go?
                    It seems it’s up to us now to decide,
                    Who often prove to be our own worst foe,
                    Unable by good reason to abide.

                    That sapience for which we’re doubly named
                    At best my prove a hopeful prophecy
                    Once our malicious instincts have been tamed,
                    And we’ve arrived at generosity—

                   Which means a kindness owed to every kind,
                   Transcending “nature, red in tooth and claw”
                   Toward which all other creatures are inclined,
                   Though we have recognized a higher law,

                        A mandate of which there is none above:
                        To manifest what’s best in us: that’s love.

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TRACKERS

                  Mead Gardens, Saturdays, the girls and I
                  Will trek around the stream-side nature trail
                  And watch bird-watchers, aiming toward the sky
                  Their long-lensed cameras, spot a yellow tail
                  Or speckled back or other telling trait
                  Of novel fowls on their migration routes
                  And over-hear their spirited debate
                  Trying to note the varied tweets and hoots.
                  Meanwhile my dogs are sniffing at the ground
                  For evidence of rabbits or raccoons,
                  Which for their searching they have never found,
                  Though they’ve been tracking now for many moons,­
                       And I’m the watcher watching everyone—­
                       Seeing their kinds of finding is my fun.

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DUMP TRUMP

                             Now Donald Trump is on the stump
                             And sounding like a horse’s rump
                             But may be heading for a slump—
                             I’d rather vote for Forrest Gump.

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