ELDERHOOD

They’ve brought in the old dog
from his doghouse in the backyard
on the edge of the woods.

Now he lies on a rug
on the front porch and when
I walk past he dutifully

pulls himself to his feet
and tries his best to
bark. It comes out in hoarse

croaks, like coughs. He
looks away, as if embarrassed
by his poor showing. Sometimes

I want to call out words of
commendation, praise him for his
vigilance. I want to tell him

it’s all right, he doesn’t need
to worry, doesn’t need to give
the warning, he’s earned

the right to rest, to doze
all afternoon in the sunlight.
I don’t. He wouldn’t understand.

FREE WILL

So I’m standing there
in the cracker aisle holding
a box in each hand and
trying to decide. I’m reading
the side panel of Wheatables.

He passes by on my right
without a pause and tosses
over his shoulder "The other
one tastes better." I look at
his retreating back. He’s

young, broad-beamed. His
head is shaved. I think he is
not an angel from God.
But I put the Wheatables
back on the shelf anyway.

VIRGINIA BLUEBELLS

I go looking for small purple
eruptions that promise
mertensia virginica will
return. It’s mid-March. It’s time.

Surely, surely it was here
along this bank, this stretch
of stream, where the blue
blossoms waved their blessing.

I kneel, wet-kneed, to brush
away old leaves with eager
fingers. Nothing. The promise
lies entombed. My need has

brought me here too soon. I’ll
wait a day or two or more
and then return, looking
for the signs of resurrection.

IN THE PARK

I watch that young father over there
with his two year old (or thereabouts)
curly-headed, knee-scuffed daughter
you can tell she has bewitched him
the way she screams her delight
higher she tells him
push me higher daddy
he will oh he will
I know

MOLLY TELLS THE WOMEN AT HER TABLE WHAT HAPPENED AT THE FUNERAL

Afterwards, Betty and I are
standing there in the hallway waiting
for our ride when this good-looking young
fellow -- in his fifties I would judge -- comes
up to us, leans down and gives her a bear
hug. "Why it’s Brian," she says. "I didn’t
know you were here; it’s so good to see you,"
then turns to me and tells me Brian is
her great nephew. "He looks pretty great to
me, all right," I say and we all laugh.
They chat awhile.
"Time to go," he tells her and gives us each a smile.
He reaches out and takes her in his arms.
I stand there aching.
He turns, then stops. "I think I’ll hug you too,"
he says to me and does.

I’m looking forward to the next funeral.