"Tiss that time of year,
the field rodents run,
the big machines hum,
the snakes slither,
gofers go deeper,
all to avoid the whirling blades,
dust clouds rise and damper the sun,
scavenger birds look for eatable pieces.
Harvest time busy the crops to gather.

Gravel crunches beneath my feet,
the meadowlark sings it's song,  
Low morning sun breaking upon the dawn.

Across the valley the back lit blue Cascades
majestically fence off the Eastern sky,
as if to hold back the light.
Mount Hood wears the emerging sun,
like a lighted crown upon her regal peak.

Out in the valley harvested golden wheat
fields stand side lighted and resplendent,
stalks shimmering with nighttime dew.  

Ground hovering Fog off the river,
to the eyes delight, rising with the sun.
Crisp clean air as Fall descends,
blowing chill breath around my ears.
Oh how sweet to be right here,
and look upon this sight.

I open my eyes and there he'd be,
Sitting at the edge of the bed,
Staring right up at me.
I swear his eyes and expression
Have love written all over them.
A silent message impossible not to see.

I pat the bed and up he comes,
Flops down beside me and
nestles his head upon my chest,
A big contented sigh his only utterance.
This our ritual of the morn,
He always waits, never jumps the gun.
Waits for permission like any good son.

What do they think I wonder,
What drives their loyal companionship,
Their unconditional love for we human beings?

Truly did we ever have a better friend?
A shadow, follow us anywhere,
Willing to take a bullet to protect us,
Cries when we leave them,
Always overjoyed to see us even if it's only
been minutes since we left their sight?

What other living creature is so willing to
overlook our failures, our unintentional abuse,
And never guilt us for these our all too human mistakes.

I wish I only knew more people,
That had the loving, steadfast
Nobel character of a faithful dog.
Oh, what a better world this would be
if only we acquired some simple animal behavior.

He made the stairs up from the yard,
Without falling even once.
Entered the house with a feeble little
skip and a bound of renewed energy,
Wagging his long crooked tail,
wearing the shaggy faded yellow
coat of an aged Labrador.
Loose skin and bone where once firm
muscles shown.
Nearly blind and fully deaf he still managed
to grab up an unclaimed tennis ball from
off the floor. Tooth and gummed it a few times
then flopped down on his rug, exhausted and spent.  
Sixteen summers and winters lived,
Loving companion, faithful friend,
Raising my grandsons to the ages of seven and ten,
Slept by their beds and protected them.

The mobile Vet has come, it's the needle not the gun.
I can not attend, too soft of heart,
I've buried too many canine friends.
My son is stoic, tending to what must be done,
But later alone, he will grieve and weep as I have done,
He is after all his father's son.

Rest in Peace Bennie you brought our family much joy.

I too have taken a two month leave of HP.
I don't think anyone noticed. That is how it is on
Social Media, words that live only for a day or
two turning to cosmic cyber dust and forgotten
as such.  As if only the now, the new matters
and perhaps only to their creator. Like a fleeting
thought in our mind, here and then quickly gone.
Replaced by hundreds or thousands more.

"Old Poets never die, they just fade away."
But I for one Joe Cole, will miss your thoughts
and words. As I too fade away, take my leave
to write another book. Loved my time here
as I'm sure you did too.

Be well sir, be well all you creative people.
All the words matter as do you.
Sincerely signed,
Another old poet.

The day crept by; we all held
our breaths.
Tip Toeing on egg shells,  
doing our collective best.
Attempting only forced
politeness and meaningless
small chat.

While avoiding the family elephant in
the room, our father's painful history
of attacking his kid's many faults and
failings, with his long history of aggressive
verbal abuse.

The tree was lighted, the room gaily
decorated with all the colorful Christmas
props of our childhood. Mom cooked her
best guess of each of our, once adolescent
favorite foods. My two sisters, my older
and younger brother and me too.

While Dad bit his tongue and tried to stay
hushed, as Mom had pleaded for days for
him to do.

Half way through dinner and a few Hot
Buttered Rums, the small talk turned serious,
and just like that, we were all truly back
home again.

Grown adults quickly reduced to sniveling
petty children sitting at their curl and
domineering Father's dinner table.

Old wounds opened and bleed upon Mom's
best-treasured table cloth. Food grew cold
for lack of interest, eyes flared and oaths of
profanity mingled with cheery Holiday Music
on the stereo.  Belligerence ensued and the old
man raged as one by one he verbally listed his
disappointments, at each of our many collective
faults. A string of loud insults and accusation
were exchanged and flung liberally about in
both directions. 

Judy's new husband took a swing at Jason for
reasons unknown, and the women protesting
their loutish behavior, separated them.

Earl and his small clan fled out the door and
drove straight back to Emeryville with not one
word of goodbye having been uttered, leaving
his kids Presents, behind unopened.

In tears, Sandy ran back up to her old room as she
had always done to escape, only to discover, that
it had been turned into a "Home Office/Sewing Den."
All her things gone to the Goodwill or garbage bin.

Dad went to the cupboard and got his bottle of
Scotch and the rest of us all quickly adjourned.

Mom started to cry and never quit.

The Dog Days of Christmas had recommenced,
and all the Kings horses and all the Kings men
could never put our broken Castle together again.

I donned my helmet, swung a leg over my Hog
and headed for the mountains, leaving Christmas
and all of them in my rear-view mirror.  

"Peace on Earth and Good Will Towards Men",
does not work for everybody friend. Hopefully,
maybe next year, we'll try it all again.

Must be hard to be a full of energy young dog
that belongs to an old man with bad knees.
He always wants to play, sadly I don't.
Oh well, at least he gets plenty to eat and
lots of rest. Seldom gets too cold or wet.
And neither of us can complain of not getting
enough love or affection, 'cause that's what
we give and get. Not a bad deal in the end.