First see new photo, or else won't make sense.

Word is out
Animal kingdom on red alert,
No animus allowed near the chair,
Tween human and animal.

Good eats, good writes to be had,
Near that ye old adirondacke chair,
Where scribbles float in
L'air du temps,
Ripe for the plucking.

Arrived in the night dark,
Twelve eyes grinning, sheepish,
Wasn't tho no sheep, just a  veritable
**** deer herd munching the shrubs,
Who when head lighted, indifferently said,
Yo *******, it is September, remember,
Get the fk off **our lawn!

Argh.

Morning.
Coffee-armed. Tablet shotguned,
Went to write in the fall sun,
When to my shock n' awe,
A gaggle of geese, awaiting.

And I mean a good-god-**** giggling-gaggle, no sht!
Probably resetting, resettling, looking for forgiveness,
For ******* all over the hard scrabbled grass.
Well no atonement boys, Yom Kippur notwithstanding,
I ain't the forgiving type!

No, no poet!
We stand before you on the Jewish Judgement Day,
Decorously waiting, in a row,
Before the throne, tho honking a little rudely,
Impatient for inscribing in Natalino's
Hall of Fame, Book of Life for the coming year.

Harrumph.

Well, in that case,
(Ego melting secretly inside),
Here is a poem just for you.

Fly south safe,
Inscribed and sealed you will be,
In both the Book of Life and Prosperity,
But only if you, stay off my grass in perpetuity!

Done and off they flew,
Me smiling, proud of my new fame,
Until I found their presents
Under my flip flops.

******* deer.
******* rabbits.
******* geese.

I wish they were not such
Poetry fanatics.

Ok.

Forgiven.


10:11am Yom Kippur morning.