by David Hill
He is a fat marmalade pear
that waddles through my yard
to engagements of a business or personal nature.
I try to make friends with him all summer long.
I address him in my softest voice,
leave small snacks on the patio.
Sometimes he rests beneath the lawn chair.
I impart qualities; kindness, purpose, wisdom.
He is a fine old fellow.
But our friendship is unilateral.
His small brain cannot work this out.
Besides, I have seen him
with a sparrow hung limp in his jaws
or spraying the territory.
We look at each other;
behind his golden eyes,
only vague comprehension.
He lowers his head and slinks away.
We have our animal natures, he and I.
Mine creates stories to soften the horror.
Author's Note: greetings, old sport
Posted on 12/01/2012
Copyright © 2023 David Hill