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From the porch I look out on a lawn While having my coffee in the clear bright dawn And birds become the day's careful warden. Immediately in front is a small garden Gone to untrammeled growth. It is not my garden and I am loath To discipline spearmint, daylilies, roses, Allium and anise. And this wild patch poses Difficulties: rocks heaped over the grave Of an old lady's cat. Unable to save Her aged male, Blackie, with fur dingey dull, He succumbed and was buried one early fall. Aided by the man who cut grass, Who prepared a space and helped to wrap The small body, she saw it laid in the oblong Grave. Her cat she missed for long.
Copyright © 2001 Sandra Landfried |
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