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Alone, the old man sits staring out the ***** window,
seeing only what was, looking back not ahead.
The clock is ticking, it is his eleventh hour.
In his last days, this was a man I held dear.
His plight in time, I and you shall too endure.
But, oh what memories sustained his breath,
his heart filled to overflowing. He died leaving
much behind and not at all alone, loved by many.
In his time, on this Earth, he did good works.
His name was Bing,
one eye grey the other blue
an Australian Cattle Dog
the best I ever knew.
Cows or Sheep he was the man.
Nipping at their heels, heading
them where you bid them go.
Smart as a whip, quick as a bullet,
Work all day for a pat on the head.

One early day no Bing appeared,
Strange 'cause he was always the first
into the truck bed, first in the pasture,
first to work, the last to quit.

We called out his name many times,
began a search, buildings to barns, silo
to shed. In the center of a cut hay field,
I saw him, hunkered down not moving.
The boss and me approached and called
to him, yet still, he did not seem to hear.

At twenty feet he stood up quick,
turned to face us with a ****,
his eyes burned with hell's fire,
his muzzle and jowls were awash in foam,
his deep-throated growl a caution warned.

Not much doubt he'd been skunk bit,
was beyond redemption touched in rabies fit.
I was sent on the run to fetch
the long gun from the truck.

We approached him careful like,
I was still panting from my run.
The boss cocked the lever,
chambering a round into the gun.

Bing's eyes looked to be pleading,
as if to ask that we end his pain.
In his crazed anguished state,
he could have reached us in a flash
spread the contagion to our flesh,
yet through instinct or love
old Bing held his ground,
awaiting his inevitable fate.

I tried to swallow but had no spit,
and then the rifle thundered
and stung my ears,
One shot through the head
took old Bing's pain away.

The Boss, a hard-edged man of fifty
began to silently weep like a child of five,
the loss of his dog too much to abide.
I must admit my tears weren't far behind.

We bore him from the field
like an honored fallen warrior.
Buried him in the yard by the house,
He deserved that respect and more.
Over fifty years later and I still think fondly
of old Bing. His actual name was Bingo, but
we all called him Bing, either way, he did not
seem to have a preference, even a shrill whistle
of summoning pitch, would do to bring him near.
Unlike most dogs, he did not crave human attention,
he lived for his work, that was about all he needed.
I know within my eyes you see my hurt, but
do you know my pain when you exclude me?
Throw me but scraps from this table of life.
Chain up my freedom, for you convenience.
With force, enforce your many rules, most
of which I am not aware of until you yell or hit.
I try so hard to please you in every way and yet
you treat me more like a possession than a friend.
Do you even know I would die to save you or this
family from harm, that is how I'm made.

Know this, my Master, for all the thoughtless things
you do, like leaving me in an overheated parked car
at the store yesterday, I, your ever faithful canine friend,
forgive you and always will, 'cause that is how I'm made.

Now can we talk about that new flea collar thing?
I hate to complain, but I do so itch!
Little ditty just for giggles. Yet ringed in truth.
If your's could talk what might they say to you?
Brief moments of painful heartaches occur to
remind us how wonderful life is the rest of the time.
One far outweighs the other.
(A personal thought of encouragement written
for a friend in need.)
It was my birthday,
Sixty Five years turned to grey hair.
My love and I, and two old school
friends on a breezy Fall day.

Over Tea and a lovely frosted
three layer cake, we cajoled
and joked about our age,
all turned senior citizens that year.
And yet in truth, we all agreed,
none of us had ever been as happy as then.

The cake was sliced onto china plates,
Each piece served flat on it's cut side.
I noticed something then as we all
took our first bites.

Our forks all started at the thinnest corner,
on the bottom layer's side, gradually
excavating the two lower levels of fluffy
cake, saving the best for last, the top layer
where all the sweet frosting remained.

It occurred to me then that indeed life
is like a three layer cake, the last top layer
can indeed contain the sweetest bites.
That rather than gobbling life hurriedly whole
it should be savored more like patiently eating
and enjoying a three layer cake.
It is not my birthday today but thanks
to those of you nice people for the good
BD wishes. It relates to everyone's aging.
More of a metaphorical assessment of
a universal theme. Actually, I'm a Taurus.
(If you know your signs, perhaps that explains
a lot about me.) :-) And sadly I'm well past
being 65.
No shadows of yesterday
will cloud now
no clouds of tomorrow
shadow today
the sky may be bright or dark
I'll see what I see
without grey

Memories of the past
won't haunt
what  future brings
I cannot see
but in now will I linger
for today
yesterday and tomorrow
will have to be

Hands of time pull and tug
creating furrows
in the brow
but today I will not
be held ransom
for I must make the most
of now

Smooth or cobbled
petals or pebbles
all shall come my way
but why should I let
a cobweb of a thought
steal my day
today
watching the sequencing is a regular thing
this pattern never fails to deliver its best score
they who follow the method will be profiting

many times one has seen this eventuating
they're slotting into the bay's ideal shore
watching the sequencing is a regular thing

utilizing a placements good calculating
is not for them an overly arduous chore
they who follow the method will be profiting

success coming with each prized offering
being educated about this niche's core
watching the sequencing is a regular thing

it appears to be in the model's situating
this their station known as precision's store
they who follow the method will be profiting

on working out a program's functioning
none received counts which would bore
watching the sequencing is a regular thing
they who follow the method will be profiting
drawing the ladies in*
by plying a magnetic charm
the guy possesses
quite an alluring arm

no woman can resist
his pulling potency
that is set on the
highest frequency

he engages a strong
bewitching spell
to motion the females
into enticement's well

a most beguiling
magic he'll employ
in riveting the gals
onto his alloy

the gent's power
is so forceful of zeal
captivating women
*with a striking appeal
Across the sky is a blaze of scintillating gold
When the dawn quietly begins to unfold
Each morn is a fresh wonder
As the night willfully bows down to surrender

Every minute is a novel creation
With scenes and sights of great sensation
With every passing hour, new vistas unfold
Bringing insights varied and visions manifold

The blades of grass glow in sparkling dew
As the sun makes his customary march anew
Over the expanse of the brightening sky
Feathered folks to different directions fly

Here and there is many a plant in bloom
That dispels all clouds of graying gloom
Bees hum round opening flowers
Squirrels come out from their hidden covers

The gust of breeze that blows over
Brings scents so sweet in the morning air
The mountains that tower so high
In grandeur seem to touch the sky

The cuckoo and the magpie sing in joy
Their nestlings have nothing to annoy
The cascading falls sound the stringed trumpet
Running down from the mount’s heady summit

As Nature thus pipes a thousand songs
In capturing sounds and melodious tunes
In my heart is born a heavenly melody
      That I shall pour out in euphonious rhapsody
Inspired by a beautiful morning ! Please read it and feel it !
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