We have become almost as one,
he reads my moods, knows when
I am not feeling well and shows
his concern.

Even in rest he keeps an eye on me.
As a shadow, he follows me.
From room to room, on outdoor
walks, by my side, content, alert.

When I return home, he is always
there standing sentry by the door,
greeting me excitedly not unlike a
human child on Christmas morn.  

He lives his life only to be close
to me. Sleeps peacefully all night
on his bed, right next to mine.
Loyal is inadequate to explain his
devotion.

Going on ten years of nearly 24/7
days a week companionship, he
understands most of what I say
to him, even my subtle hand gestures
of beckoning or command bring
his eager compliance.

Like me he has grown grey of muzzle
and brow, we are limping and aging
together now. He still has his moments
of Puppy like behavior, brief flashes of
his once inexhaustible abundant youth,
tempered now just as mine has too.

He loves me with his expressive brown
eyes and I see it plain as a sunrise of a
new day. His pace and behavior tell me
that our time together is growing short.
This reality does so pain my heart

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                             An Armada of Black Escalades

              …detailed lists of disloyal government officials

             -Inside Trump '25: A radical plan for Trump’s
                              second term (axios.com)

A shadow government just like
The new government just like
The previous government -
And just whose names are inscribed on Schedule F?

Those black Escalades

Armored Mariahs carrying functionaries
And their lists to secret meetings in the night
The Party faithful planning a new Lubyanka
And cultural suicide through electronic noise

Those black Escalades

The escort has a warrant for your obedience
You can see Siberia from the passenger seat

“where summer’s bronzes dull and sink”

the trees are like
wet coat hangers,
holding up the leaves,

my cat is frosty like
an october morn,
sleeping on the sill,

everything is dripping
like a wet pair of
jeans taken out of the wash,

the sky wears its greys
of cloud, dim and dramatic
it opens summer eyes.

The vibration of song across your lips
words riding your gentle breath

thoughts of your heart
deep feelings you express

solidarity with the marginalised
all your kisses on the wind

sharing of voices mostly ignored
love of your fellows laid down in poetry

all gathered up through the ages
the poets and their songs,

poets and their songs
poets and their songs.

Alone, depressed, in a hospital room bed,
when out in the hall appeared a little
well-dressed elderly woman pushing a
two wheeled cart, upon which set a large,
beautiful orchestral harp, it's burnished wood
gleaming and strings reflecting a golden light.

My door was open, and she paused in the
hall and sat on a stool and began to play.
A haunting classical piece I did not know.
When she was finished, I lightly clapped
my hands together, smiled in appreciation,
She asked, "Another perhaps?"
"Yes, Clair De Luane if you please"

She wheeled her harp a little into
my room. Settled herself and began to
play. After only a few cords the lovely
melody refrain reached deep into me,
and I began to unashamedly weep.

The frustrations of confinement, operation
pain and infection, along with the depressions
of aging and loss of my youthful capabilities
came pouring out.

That little lady, her magical harp and that tune
reached deep into my soul.  I was uplifted
and renewed.

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                       At Noon, After Mowing

I sat in the shade and mended a hose
A water hose whose fittings had parted ways
And on the grass some mockingbirds and jays
Argued and shrilled – but why? Nobody knows

I cut away the plastic (hecho en China)
And fitted brass (hecho en Mexico)
For repairs that is the best way to go
To make a hose secure – what could be finer?

And what could be finer than to sit a while
In the dreaming shade? Yes, that’s my style!