Going to Die
We’ve all read about wild animals when death is near.
They’re sick or wounded. The ending seems clear.
They’ll look for a secluded place out of sight,
And wait for their passage into the long night.
Maybe it’s built in, to have a peaceful death,
Avoid the pain of predators at your last breath.
Domestic animals seem to have this trait still.
Our dog Smokey showed signs of feeling ill.
At that time our pets were free to roam,
And one day our old dog didn’t come home.
Thinking of nature, did she crawl off to die?
Maybe the woods at the corner was where she’d lie.
I started looking. Sure enough, there was our pet.
“Come on old girl. Lets go home. It’s not time yet.”
We walked home slowly. By hand she was fed.
We chose living while nature said dead.
As she aged, bad hips meant she couldn’t arise.
She put her weight on her front legs to our surprise.
When she could no longer climb stairs to the door,
I built a ramp for her. I would have done more.
Then life was just too hard, We knew the score.
Watch for Moose*
“Watch for moose,” the road signs say.
Because making contact will ruin your day.
The state isn’t worried much about the moose,
But the havoc that one could let loose.
A car will drive under one, it’s so tall.
Of car occupants, it could kill them all.
The young man was sensible. He was aware,
As he drove down the dirt road with care.
Suddenly, from the bushes a moose came forth.
The driver was able to stop of course.
The moose felt challenged. He was of the male gender.
So he came up to the car and sat on the fender.
Then his honor satisfied, he calmly walked away.
Fortunately, not much damage requiring cash outlay.
The youth had a great answer to, “How was your day?”
* My son’s true experience
Playful Hawks
When you stop and smell the roses, you can’t go wrong.
When you stop listening to noise. You hear nature’s songs
Stop and look up from your tasks and see.
For a moment join nature and be free.
House work, the skillsaw whines across the land.
The hammer bangs. Every nail driven home by hand.
Stop and rest the arm, hawk whistles I hear.
I must look to see it, no to see them, so near.
Youth with energy, two siblings or mates,
Aerial combat, a game or type of date.
No need to practice. This must be play.
They don’t catch their prey this way.
Soon they pass beyond the tall trees.
Unlimited sky for games in the breeze.
And I go back to my work, done with my ease.
The Survival Tree
The great towers had crashed to the ground.
Of the occupants only bits and pieces were found.
The cleanup crews were careful with open eyes.
They didn’t want to let anything get by.
Removing two blocks of concrete, they spotted the tree.
With bark missing and broken limbs, they set it free.
The workers were about to consign it to the trash.
Their foreman said, “Stop, let’s not be too fast.
The city has a plant nursery. I’ll take it there.
I think we can save it with tender loving care.”
The foreman himself had learned about survival.
He had faced death. Willpower postponed its arrival.
He covered the wounds. Given nutrients, water and sun,
The tree prospered until reconstruction was begun.
Some said this tree was the wrong type to replant,
But the foreman prevailed. He wouldn’t accept the word can’t.
A symbol to all of the determination to live,
The survival tree has this contribution to give.