I bet you've heard of fingernails
raking chalkboard

And I bet you've heard of spoons and forks
scratching dinner plates

But have you ever heard of promises
slicing calloused hearts?

I have.

Sitting all day with Dakota, my
sick old dog, cancer, comforted
by touch, my toe rubs her flanks
outside on her little rug
under redwoods, on the deck  
her favorite spot.
Fuzzy ears gather sounds,
rhythm, the day goes round.

Dawn is birdsong, dove and thrush
deer tread softly in the underbrush.

Comes the chatter of people
shouts, children at play
whine of machinery
remarkable the variety of motors
on a Saturday.

Light fades,
the return of birdsong
tap-tap, a neighbor’s wood shop
laughter echoes in the forest
scent of barbecue
summer pleasures.

Now midnight
all is hush
endless stars
Dakota remains at my feet, rubbed
by my toes as I chase away flies.

Patience, little fly.
Feel the breath from her nose?
Still alive while it blows.

Departure
Always bittersweet

Part one --
Flits off the tongue and the teeth
Depa --
Rolling smoothly and richly, whispering through caverns and chasms

Part two --
Harshly invades the palate, like bricks scraping on concrete
Ture --
Severely escaping wind through tree trunks and mountaintops

Linking soft and hard, beginning and end

Departure --
The confusion of words and sounds

one lone barking dog
competes with  a few crickets
using microphones

I hold my breath in darkness

Crack
Tick.  Tick.  Tick.

And let it go.
He must have come a long way

Tick. Tick. Tick.
Click.

He must have sensed
The only warmth laid out for him

Creeeak
Tick... Tick...

Acrid loss hangs low in the air
Damp claws ***** my toes

Inhale

And he drinks
Come to redeem blood lost

Silence
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Creeeak
Click.

My foot runs over the aging scabs

Exhale

I sink back into slumber

The revs of car engines
The footsteps of pedestrians
The laughter of children
The bark of guard dogs
The chirps of small birds

Even from in my bedroom I can hear the world I am familiar to
The world I call **home

the city and it's music
every changing
the city and it's music
daily rearranging

you can hear the distant thunder
kept in time by city drums
a beat of urban tires
that makes the city roadways strum
the wind blows through the subway
you can hear the wires hum
it's the city making music
shut your eyes and listen some

the band has no conductor
there are horns and there are strings
there's a bass back from the buses
listen to the joy it brings
it's a concert in the city
by the city and it rings
the bells from downtown churches
and the piegeons flapping wings

you've an orchestra around now
listen close, it never stops
from the cars racing through downtown
to the whistle blowing cops
it's a different kind of music
it's got a rhythm that just pops
it's a gritty harder sound
that echos to the building tops

cars, trucks, people walking
all are part of this great band
and the best part of this music
is it's spread across the land
each song you hear is different
nothing ever comes out planned
each city has a cadence
listen close, the show's at hand....