8/31/20 Night’s Mourning

I’m not especially pleased with this piece’s conclusion but I do kind of like my opening. Not my best, probably not my worst, and not half-bad for getting back on the horse after so long!

May 29 2020: Waiting

There I always something profoundly sad bout dogs in clinics and shelters. Perhaps because on some level we can all relate.

As an aside, the dog in the photo is from the clinic I work at and he is not snarling—he had an accident a while back and that old injury isn’t why he was visiting. He was simply so striking that I couldn’t resist taking a picture and that one in particular ended up matching so well with today’s poem that I had to use it.

Days 176 & 177: Packed; Missing Spots

Once again inspiration struck when I didn’t have my notebook on me and I had to resort to writing yesterday’s poem on scrap paper. I transcribed it into my poetry notebook this morning before writing today’s poem.

Yesterday I left my bride and my dog in Houston. Nobody’s especially thrilled about it, least of all my puppy. He’s a rescue and has severe anxiety attacks every time he sees a suitcase being packed. He knows it means a trip and that it’s not going to be a quick ride in the car. He gets both desperate and excited and it’s him that inspired yesterday’s poem. Kind of hurt to write it out. I’m missing him and my bride today.

Packed

This morning’s poem comes from my ever frenetic attempts at organization and prioritizing. There’s always more to do. And now after that. Beauty of life. When it runs out, there’s no life left. Even so, I feel like I’m sending my brain spiraling around inside my own skull sometimes.

Missing Spots