The Times

Random Thoughts impromptu while at a New Yorker’s
Beach House just north of Jekyll Island.

On Candor

         ‘They say they had to do it, John,’
‘Why? There could have been a
Sincere debate. Remember debates?’
‘No, no one would have bought it, John?’
‘Well, I’ll give you that. Not if they
Had a financial brain and an acuity for
Future generations.’
‘So, what are you writing this afternoon?’
‘I don’t know? I reckon I’ll know shortly…’
         ‘Religion is serfdom, John.’

On Three Dogs

         The three were sprinkled mournfully into the
Clark Fork, Bitterroot and Blackfoot.
Their grey residue melding into the
         Flowing oblivion.

         The first of English stock, a direct descendant
Of Ms. Scales’ breeds; for upland birds. Loved to run
In the fields, nose up, large brown eyes alive. Died of
         Cancer. Humanely put down.

         The second, a Canadian from Mr. Birch’s
Breeding North of Montana. Did you know Canadian
         Dogs have numbers tattooed in their ears? Her
Tattoo was green. Bought for field trialing. She was unruly at times,
         But a ball. This black lab had a seizure one evening,
Passing gently on her own.

         The third, well, Where to begin? A donation by a local
Kennel just west of town. Not sure of her age when
         We got ‘er. Three or so, maybe? She had bad hips,
But gave everything nonetheless. Steady in the
         Canoe, a great nose for the uplands, decent on the
Water too, though not a lot of water fowling as the
         Duck count’s been off in the ‘root. Wonderful with
The kids. Typical of the breed. In recent years,
         She barked and sometimes cried when I was eating. Why?
She wandered off disoriented during our walks in the
         Woods. Finally, age showing white on her chin, she
Could no longer get up in the morning, run or walk.
         Humanely, she was put down.

The kids want another one.
Imagine the thought.

One thought on “The Times

  1. Richard G. Davies

    Jeffrey, Thanks for posting these poems. I particularly liked the one “On Three Dogs.: Last week I lost my own dog a little friend who found and lived with me for almost fifteen years. Here is my effort to memorialize her:
    Richard D.
    “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
    By any other name would smell as sweet.”
    That’s what Juliet asked. And well we know
    what followed that innocent question.

    Indeed, what’s in a name—a name like Nemo?
    —a simple Latin word meaning “no man” or “no one”.
    Nemo was the name I gave my mysterious little dog—
    No, more than a dog, she was my companion—
    My little friend who came to me out of nowhere
    While walking on the road to somewhere.


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