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There is no finer fresh breeze
to be had then those mingled
tropical scents of open seas,
coconut palms, flowering plants,
clean white sands and fresh caught
fish frying over an open fire, while
reclined upon a near deserted
pristine island beach with new
convivial friends recently met.
Memories often recalled of
traveling through the South
pacific in my youth. Now if
only I could reproduce those
Tropical scents of fragrance.
Though I must admit sitting
on my porch with a westerly
breeze and the scents of my
garden flowers and orchard
is a very close second.
As wee kittens she and her brother
were gifted to us from a neighboring
farm up the hill, a pair from a litter of
feral felines, welcomed on our place
as mousers and ratters.

Mostly they lived around the barn,
strolled and policed the property as
their domain. The male was always
by his disposition aloof, had no need
of close human contact, content to be
independent and on his own.

His sister was more inclined to draw
nearer, curious and at times amenable
to a pat on the head, or a small dish of
cat food. And the bearer of gifts in the
form of parts of the remains of her kills
deposited on my porch door threshold.
Proof I suppose of her doing her job,
or in gratitude for my feeding her.

One day her brother was predator taken,
though she stayed on her job, she became
a more frequent visitor to my porch, with
her litter mate gone perhaps she had become
lonely and needed companionship.

It has been a few years since the loss of
her brother and now she comes everyday
morning and evening, or whenever I call
her in. Running full speed to eagerly rub
against my legs, or flop down atop my feet,
wanting a belly rub, purring and ever so
glad to see me. For all her given affection,
she is not a fan of being picked up and held.
It offends, maybe threatens her half wild nature.

No where to be seen, yet when I go out to the
road to get the mail, to the barn or orchard
before I walk 30 feet, there she is running close
behind me, as if she had been waiting just for
that very occasion.

She is over ten now getting old like me,
she is around my inner yard or the porch
most of the time, I even let her inside the
house from time to time, she and my inside
cat, get along fine. Drink from the same
water bowl, eat side by side. They enjoy
playing together, I think he is smitten by
her as only a neutered male cat can be.

But always at some point, as if she hears
a distant calling, she goes to the door and
let's me know she is ready to return to her
life outside. Instincts are difficult to ignore.
She is no less my friend than my inside
house cat, companions both, one day
when I call her name, she will not come
running, like her brother she will just
disappear, and I shall sincerely miss her.
How many wonderful canine companions
have come through my life, I hesitate to count,
each one a dear friend that brightened my
daily existence, taught me lessons no human
could, faithfully loved me with committed
devotion and asked for so very little in return.
Yes, it is true, dogs are man's best friend.
As I near my own ending, reflection has become
a daily preoccupation. Of course, I miss and
lovingly remember my departed human family
members and work hard trying to recall their
human forms, all gone now for over fifty years,
I've mostly forgotten their voices, and their
features beyond old fading mostly black and
white photos. As I will forever honor their
memories, so do I cherish the memory of my
canine family members, there were seven in
all, I just counted them. Six Boxer dogs and
a big sweet giant Rottweiler, who looked
like he might eat your face, but instead
always preferred to lick it.
In our times,
no one wants
to be politically
incorrect.
"Let's not offend."
seems to be the
chant.
Nice little
sheep
that
stay
in line.
Simple smiles, and
polite applause,
but just
a smattering.
Agreement en masse.

Next time you see
this, look for the
return of public
hangings, the blotting
out of the sun, and the
death of art that is
forged from the
marrow of the spirit.
https://booksie.chainletter.io/i/thomaswcase888
Link to my recently published limited edition book, Rise Up Collected Poems and Short Stories.
fathers day is here mum said i had three
she didnt know there name only one belongs to me
i must be very lucky when one is dead and gone
i will have another one so i can just move on

one must be the real one.  of that there is no doubt
which of three it is oneday might find out
i will carry on just the way it is
maybe get to know the answer to my quiz

happy fathers day daddies
 Jun 16 Whit Howland
Onoma
a brook lends the

smoke of:

Patchouli.

a sparrow soaks

like a piece of

bread.

irresponsive to

water.
I don't vacation
in Babylon anymore.
The ticket prices soared
and the trip
almost killed me.
Years of
debauchery weren't
good for the soul.

The only gold I
want now is the
autumn leaves and
the buttery summer corn,
and the shimmer on the
lake at sunset.

I'm getting older and
my heart is stronger.
It beats like a
childs, seeing
green for the first
time.
check out my you tube channel where I read my poetry.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cONQtjbeEo8
Presence on the road
Headlight in observe
Destinations serve
Skillful hands of the Greyhound Bus Driver
Stretched out Hound dog trademark
Voice of the rolling maneuvering wheels
Onward and precise
Cutting through the times of fog
The Greyhound bus is more than a name and dog
A passenger’s friend
Enriching America within
The Greyhound bus showing the way
Travel in your getaway
Eye always on the road
Lean back and recline
We are all the Greyhound Bus timeline
Feel America up close and one’s dreams explored
Honor and privilege
The Greyhound bus leverage
Masterpiece and motor coach engineer
Each day a preserver
Sunrise to sunset always near
Symbolic
The Greyhound bus far and wide
Bus history with a provide
Travel with care
Eye on the people
Heartfelt love
The Greyhound bus like no other
The thought of a flying Dove
Vision and reflection
Precision
Everlasting approach
Yesterday’s inspiration
Tomorrow a reality
A Greyhound bus rolling in your way
Your chance and opportunity
The getaway
gk
george collects baby doll heads

my guestion to george,

do you cut the baby doll heads
off the dolls?
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