His eyes look up at me

as he gives a soft whimper.

“Please open the door,” he pleads.

“I have some business to do outside”

“Does it have to do with squirrels? ” I ask.

He shakes his head, but we both know

he wants to give the squirrels a chase .

He really doesn’t have to go.

JDG

In a yard littered with sticks,

Knox and his dog friend

 claim the same stick

and refuse to let go.

In a lot where empty

parking spaces abound,

two humans claim

the same parking place 

 and both refuse to budge.

Scarcity mindsets in the midst 

of abundance or 

senseless manifestations of dominance?

Who knows?  But unlike the humans,

Knox and his friend

seem to enjoy the game.

JDG

Each evening when 

almost all the seed is gone

and only a kernel or two remain,

the same plump bird comes

and finishes what is left.

Can birds be obsessive-compulsive too?

Or maybe I’m wrong and it’s not

the same bird, but right or wrong

that bird brings me pleasure,

and on that note I’ll rest.

JDG

Worry came knocking today.

I invited her in as Rumi had suggested,

and offered her a cup of tea.

She refused the tea and began

wandering through the house.

She saw problems everywhere.

“What about this?” she asked; “What

about that?”. Finally I suggested

we take a walk and let Knox lead the way.

So we walked and she talked. I watched Knox

sniff the ground and run around

find some sticks and run and play.

By the time we got back home,

Worry waved goodbye, saying

she’d return some other day.

JDG

I have to admit

growing old can be full of grit,

but today I choose to bask

in the glory of my morning walk.

First and foremost is the fact

 I’m still here and I can walk.

With my ground-sniffing companion, Knox,

I pass Bradford pears bursting with white. 

Their scattered petals remind me

I am a bride, married to this land and to this life.

Cardinals, blue jays,and birds whose names 

I don’t recall regale me with their song.

As the sun crests the horizon, I prepare

to renew my vows only to be interrupted

by the honking horn of a neighbor’s

teenage son who’s learning to drive –

a moment of glory for him

though much different from mine.

   JDG

All through winter

and now into spring

that hydrangea, red-brown leaves,

blossoms beige, sang boldly

of faded glory. The leaves

were the first to go

leaving the blossoms to sing solo.

The blossoms’ song is finishing now,

and it won’t be long before a new song,

one celebrating unfolding green

and bridal white, will begin.

JDG