Could Be Anywhere...
Who Be the Big Dog?
Trudging out back on this Sunday morning
all wrapped in my blankets and coats.
Uncharacteristic nine inches of snow
cover, conceal the Oklahoma landscape.
Family of tiny birds who live in the clothesline
huddle, shivering in their frozen pipe home.
Too cold, one presumes, to breakfast
at the feeder hanging next to the tire swing.
Sitting on my old, often sat, car seat
propped up against the bathroom wall.
Dazzled, even amazed by the blanket of snow
stretching over the field to the tracks below.
Feeble sunlight suddenly, turning field ablaze
with uncountable, a layer of rainbow jewels.
Respectfully smoking out of doors, even in winter
I tease the little, long haired wienie dog.
He is daintily, picking his careful way
three feet touching the freeze at a time.
He whines, yips then howls to go back inside
as I chide him about his nice, long-haired coat.
He looks at me in my sweats, my stocking hat,
my wrap-around blanket, hooded sweatshirt, heavy coat
Indian blanket poncho and extra lap blanket;
as if to say, “Look who’s talking, bub!”
“But I’m not whining to get in”, I argue
as Mama comes and let’s the triumphant inside...
Daniel J. Burt EndoftheRoad 1/00 (all rights reserved)
there is only one...