Urban scoundrels engaged
In silent skulking
Upon twilight’s rising
They hunt for mice
Determined leaps
Diving into tall grass
If blessed by the Blue Hour god
They might secure
A tasty jackrabbit
Scavengers no more; rightful citizens
Of suburban fields
Appointed neighbourhood watch
Patrolling for unlucky stray cats
Violating curfew
Last week I beheld
A charming specimen
Enjoying a midday stroll
Down the centre of the street
Cocky little pup, I mused
Cheeky and presumptive
My admiration, obvious
Tenacity in a flocculant pelt
Eyes without typical canine expression
Brow bones refusing to adapt
Forswearing supplication
Conspicuous absence of zeal
Declining human affection
To live alongside us
Without drawing close
A lesson in humanity
For our contemplation
Forced connection
Is no kindred bond
We stroll beside many
Never fated to be chums
Though parallel
In our destination
Happy to co-exist
While sharing landscape and resources
Allow them their hours
As they permit yours
A thought to ponder
They do look
Lovely to touch though
About the Creator
Aspen Marie
In love with life and all of its foibles.
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Center Stage with Gina C.
*** I'm keen to republish the interviews I did for my series with Vocal creators. It's been a few years and I thought it might be nice to revisit these wonderful conversations. I'll be releasing them one at a time for a few weeks/months.
By Heather Hubler6 days ago in Interview
Comments (1)
Well-wrought! It was said that Diogenes of Sinope slept in a large urn in the street and kept company with mongrels, hence the term cynic, which was coined from the Greek cynos, meaning dog. He thought them more noble creatures than the human animal, it seems. Sometimes I think he may have been right, but I still ain't sniffing any butts!