Slugs

Blithe to all the narratives,

The tumble of all the species,

Of all the worlds within the world.

Extruding its slime, gliding in time,

O’er leaf or stone or shower stall,

Resolved in solitary imperatives.

Writhing watery — slimy, solitaire,

Every place trailing a slick of silver.

It’s endless buffet of rot and decay,

Feeding the loam which is our home,

And none too palatable to predators,

Audacious, appearing the apparent heir.

And sometimes, in the deep midnight,

Bonds Slug to slug in coiled embrace,

Glorious, gross, bonded viscous adipose,

‘Til nestling eggs in dribbling the dregs,

And off to extend the formless legacy,

Of birth, decay, in seasonal sacral rite.

These few words are a plug,

For the oozing primal slug.

Rosie

From a broken home, and sad state,
Colonized in fleas with matted fur,
A rough mannered beast you were,
Trembling at your yet unknown fate.

But time, love, and doggy shampoo,
Once nicely groomed so snowy white,
And warming to new familiar sights,
Your wag and swag replacing your rue.

And now you greet in a liturgy of licks,
Complete with black eyed adoring stare,
Mimicking bipeds whose lives you share,
Always ready to play and up to new tricks.

Sweetly, you love to be loved and to love,
Bark your invitation to play on the floor,
A dog heart shining like the purest of ores,
Part of the healing in simply being part of,

My life.

Night Air

A hush on the breeze in a light of blue,
Whispering of Luna's cool soft reign,
And dwellers of day in dens recede.
Those attuned to night's cooler hues,
Warble and wail in pastoral strains,
Calling and crying, a longing, a need.

Each crackling branch or flutter of leaf,
Goosebump skin and pauses the nerves,
Attentive in a fear both sacral and primal.
Choral yowls and howls in ambient grief,
Pining in a canvas moonlit chef d'oeuvre,
Their longing and mine converge chiasmal.

Then, horizon blues bleed purple and pink,
Bays stifle whimpering in the blending light,
'Til sallow sunlight stretches shadows of morn.
Night air re-enchanted in birdsong and blinks,
In puffs of dew breath or in wisps of sprites,
A faunal change of the guard in a day reborn.

Sol accedes,
Luna recedes,
Melancholy.