Autumn Poem from Campbell, CA:
First rain since April and my small dog,
nose close to the ground, sniffs
his way about a New Eden –
telephone pole, his old stop, smells
fresh and new, the corner mailbox,
shiny again, gets a quick sniff
and a new pee. The grass has little
drops of water on it so his walk onto
the neighbor’s lawn for a poop is
at first tentative and exploratory.
I pick it up in a corner cut from my newspaper’s
plastic wrap, look about, think summer
here’s a dusty place. So, as the dog’s been
urging, I take a deep autumnal breath.
“We don’t do what we ought. We do what we can.”
Good words. Worth a second saying.
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