My Backyard Today

Leaves still are not out on trees, but stuff is springing up after a long and very snowy winter. Having the sun be out today was a total suprise (rain predicted) and it is quite lovely out there. This is my back and side yard where I have a small creek. As always, you can click on a picture to see enlarge for a better view.

Above: Ribbon grass by creek (varigated white/green stripes) Blueberry bushes off to the side (top pic) and pink pulmonaria in bloom. Salmon berry bush is the branchy thing on the second pic.

Below: Skunk cabbage is coming up behind the chair. My planter Needs some annuals.

Sarah's poem....a Rerun

Sarah wrote this several years ago and it was previously posted quite awhile back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sarah Writes a Poem
(or Boof)

Boof.
My favorite word.
It means sooo much-
"Let's go car"
"Where's my bone?"
"My ass itches"
Boof, covers it all.
While calculating the
hypotenuse of door knob
mysteries and the zen of "out"
A dog, blackly clad
tortured my senses by
existing in the same
neighborhood as Sarah.
Sarah, queen of all that
can be seen, heard or smelled
is assaulted by a tennis ball slave,
A sight unbearable
I -
- must - shout - - -
Boof! boof, Boof!
My queendom
tolerates no trespassers
In the cage beyond my windows.

My dog poem...

I had the first ten lines the other night. I didn't know it would turn into a death poem, impending death, yes, but death itself was not my intention. I suspect it is pure maudlin; I'm incapable of any sort of intellectual perspective at the moment. And why? Writing for me, for some reason is a respite, however temporary.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


My Dog is the Bravest Soul I've Met

I wake in the dark scrambling
to hear her breath--
the soft snore or elongated
sighs telling me she is still
sharing life
with me. Sleep equals peace
in my human equation. Sign
language, made important
by deaf ears, broken ear drums
and polyps blocking any hope
of a cure is our new trick.
Her world spinning
a tilt so grave four paws
can't navigate gravity
with any surety. A sneeze
or head shake sends her tumbling
to the floor onto her side, ribs
absorbing the surprise and pain
without a cry. Her tail incapable
of lies, always swiping a wag
with a passing touch or simple
eye contact speaks of love, love,
love. And her tail never lied
when tucked between her back legs
by distress, confused by a world
become silent, spinning, painful
with no respite but sleep. But always
there was the love, and oh, so bravely
she guided me through her death.