He is a fat marmalade pear
that waddles through my yard
en route
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.

12/01/2012

Author's Note: greetings, old sport

Posted on 12/01/2012
Copyright © 2023 David Hill