Impulse of Life

Stars cross the sky, surprises never cease.
Orion hunting over, Venus below the horizon,
the rising sun obliging infrared and ultraviolet...
in tube-sock feet I navigate the back porch,
open the screen door and spot two patient
visitors on my doorstep; a Bedlington
Terrier and a Maine Coon cat.  They
view me narrowly, eyes glinting with
stares able to cut diamonds.  Still,
species warmth is perceived.

A dog, a cat, a wrinkle in the fabric
of the day-to-day that is Midwest ennui,
I carry my lingering surprise like wet lace,
and reprimand my inherent resistance to change.
As a result, I urge them in like a farmer urges
the rain, and am amazed at the lucidity of
animal association.

The Bedlington, as the soft swell of cottony
bloat, bows slow and flicks his flimsy tail
as if to say, Thank You.  Rounded snout
a grin.  The Maine, aloof as feline needs
dictate, hops upon my Captain’s chair,
paws the nearby mouse, and lows a
long and heartfelt Meow as big fur
cat in primal pose.

Water, first, for weighty cat and airy
canine, a compliment of pat and fuss
and one-word speak in morning sun;
a cooing over oblong snout of terrier
face, an eye on Maine--an all-of-a-
sudden computer cat awed by a
silver Apple notebook.

I see in them élan vital*, both black and
white (colors apropos), for the Maine
would do well Halloween night, and
Bedlington would blend in February
snow.  Said terrier eats scrambled
eggs; Maine Coon declines, purrs
contently as laptop lights and
Apple icons fill the screen.


40 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
2-27-16


*élan vital...the vital force or impulse of life.