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April 5, 2005
A Sonnet for Nic Nic

Benu’s Promise 

On My Dogs Getting Old

Poseidon's Prerogative

Knowing Bill Shurr

Moving On

Reflections From The Frog Pond

Things That God Doesn’t Even Notice

Exploding Sunshine

George Bush in Hell

 

On My Dogs Getting Old

His muzzle once mahogany
now flecked with white
he looks up at me with cloudy eyes 
and struggles to get up He wags 
and rubs against my leg
She coughs a bit after 
running to intimidate 
a visitor a deer a squirrel Chubbier than the 
vet advises She climbs into my lap 
and cuddles
What will I do when Elvis and Foxy 
the warmth and laughter of my every day 
are no more Yet I know
that a date certain is coded
in their DNAs
The very thought conjures ghosts
Tuffy Pixie Sandy BoughBough Paddington 
SugarBear Raggamuffin Muts mixed and full breeds
Their short lives each dedicated 
to my life’s joy
Warm apparitions
Close soft fur nibbled fingers frenzied chases
tug o wars joyful yaps woodsy races
creek bank walks tummy rubs licked faces They were
now are no more
Just as before 
when these leave me
I will welcome new dogs 
because without them
life is cold and silent

Forrest C. Greenslade, PhD
April, 2007

 

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