Images from Life: Poetry and Pictures

Animal Friends

Activist Bunny

Teeth bared, face angry, jaws widely spread

Just doesn’t capture bunny to my mind.

Soft, cuddly, warm and gentle, I’d have said,

Is archetypal bunny, children’s friend.

I don’t know why you’re angry and upset

Perhaps you’ve had enough of zoo parade

And chubby children with their sticky hands

And lack of freedom to roam free, to graze.

But, bunny friend, I’m not sure your rage

Will get the things you’re seeking, spring your cage.

It may just get you locked securely in,

A date with lethal dose of medicine.

Your feet all turned into some good-luck charms,

Your hutch hosed out for cuddly bunny guests

Who’ll play the zoo game with more laid-back style

Who’ll hide their anger and suppress their hate.

Banana Spider

Your amazing engineering puts our engineers to shame

Hanging weightless as you weave and spin and craft your deadly trap

With no more thought to gracefulness or beauty or design

Than the victims of your dark intent commit to where they fly.

I wonder if they ever know or care or comprehend

That they are destined for your lunch or late night snack with friends.

But then some other predators are watching all your work

And waiting till you’re fat and plump and ready for their meal.

What a deadly vicious cycle of hunting, eating, death

Of beauty and of danger, of silken sticky webs

Of maintaining nature’s balance

As designed by nature’s God.

Dr. Daisy Is In: 5¢

You see me short, swaybacked and fat

And wonder what I’m doing there

Surrounded by the thoroughbreds,

The pampered brood-mares of the farm.

I’ve been called in to settle them,

To do a bit of therapy,

To help the mothers get along

And treat each other civilly.

Mourning Hope is quite a brat.

She bites and steals the food and hay

That all of us were meant to share.

She always wants to have her way.

And Spirit, newest of the mares,

Had been excluded by the herd.

They needed me to welcome her

And help the new girl feel at home.

Miss Spirit is a dappled gray.

Miss Mourning Hope’s a pretty bay.

Their blood lines are the horse-elite.

My sire and dam? No one can say.



But I’m allowed to offer rides

To Gabriel and Anna-Mae.

The high-strung thoroughbreds aren’t safe

To offer rides to little guys.

Old Nicky is the kindest mare.

She’s been a very patient mom.

Her daughters have been trained to race

And sometimes, even, they have won.

So I enjoy my pasture lot

To be a friend and therapist

For high-strung horses bearing foals

And taking children for a ride.

I love the times the kids will come

And bring me apples for a treat.

I love my life here on the farm

Of mentoring and therapy.

Duck Courtship

"Hey, big boy, you’re looking fine.

"I like a man who wears a tux.

"And I think that you stand out

Among the flock of local ducks.

"Well hello, sister, you are kind.

"Let’s take a little swim upstream.

"I’m thinking we could bill and coo.

"I’d love to help fulfill your dreams.

"But someday soon I’ll fly away.

"I feel the call of southern skies.

"So, understand, a traveling man

Cannot commit, it isn’t wise.

"Don’t worry, Don, I never thought

"That you’re the kind to settle down.

"But I’ve got eggs to fertilize

And you will do the job, for now.

"But I’ll keep looking for the duck

"To build a nest with, by the stream.

"Who knows, perhaps there’ll come a day

When you become Duck-of-My-Dreams.

"Well alright, then, let’s take that swim

"And I’ll be glad to fertilize

"Those eggs for you, my pretty one.

Then I’ll be taking to the skies.

And so it is, with drakes and hens

With mallards, wood ducks and with teals.

It may not smack of duck romance

It’s hard to tell just what ducks feel.

Duck Life

I love to see a family

Of mallard ducks out for a swim.

The little ones beside their mom,

Their dad dressed in his formal wear.

The gracefulness with which they move

Their green and tan and yellow hues

Always fill me with delight

And wishes for good duck success.

Elephant Seals

It’s an amazing sight to see

Thousands of them on the beach

Barely moving, just a flipper

Tossing sand to keep them cool.

They are molting, shedding skin.

They seem not suited well to land.

In the sea they are real athletes

Diving deep to seek their food.

They can dive five thousand feet

And stay submerged an hour’s time

Their ears are tuned to tiny sounds

Which help them find the prey they seek.

Great White Sharks will prey upon them

As will Orcas, in the deep.

On the beach they lie serenely,

Having little need to eat.

It’s pleasant to observe their molting,

Their faces look like little pups.

The smell, however, isn’t lovely.

Like a pigpen—stand upwind!

Gull Gossip

"Pretty day here on the bay, I think

"Watch out, those kids may throw some things at us

To knock us off our post. They’re pretty sweet.

"And have you seen those folks in silver paint?

"They’re pretty good, I think, at pantomime.

"The crowd is quite a mix, here on the pier.

Of Midwest tourists and the coastal kooks.

"But children are my favorites to see.

"Their eyes light up at every new delight.

"Their parents’ politics do not corrupt

The innocence and wonder in their eyes.

"The sea lions sure look peaceful on their raft,

"They have to rest a lot, it seems to me

"When all they do is swim and dive for fish.

I think we work much harder than they do.

"So, listen, I’m about to fly again

"And look for scraps to clean up on the pier.

"The city should pay us for what we do

To beautify the place. You’re looking very cute.

"I’ll meet you back here in a little while

"And you can fill me in on what you’ve done.

Enjoy the day and flying in the sun.

Migration

I saw a mass migration, once

Of lovely Monarch butterflies

Upon a hill just north of town

In Arkansas, where I lived then.

They covered every tree and bush

A horde of brilliant orange and black

There was no noise, no trumpet blast

To mark their coming, no alarm.

I didn’t see them come or go

I never saw them in the sky

No one else I knew had seen them

Nothing marked their passing by.

But I cannot forget the sight

A delicate and gentle host

Whose beauty spoke so quietly,

A private gift from God to me.

Morning Moose

Morning moose and antelope will share

A pasture for their daily diet needs.

Tranquil moose, fast and explosive deer

Feed together in the gray cool air.

Neither knows the other’s lot in life.

Neither shares a bond of empathy.

Moose does things the life of moose befits,

While antelope’s agenda works for him.

But side by side in morning gray they spend

Together time which gives them both their food.

And then they go upon their separate ways.

Moose slowly walks with very little haste,

And antelope bounds quickly to his work.

We need a pasture where we all can graze,

Respecting one another as we feed,

Where we can live in harmony with moose,

Where antelope speed does not the moose offend.

Orangutan

You look so lazy in your concrete tree

As I see you, so also you see me.

I’d think that joining Tarzan on the vines

Is better fellowship than you will find

Here in the zoo gorilla house.

But that’s just me.



Parrot

What a sight to watch you separate

The green-bean from its seed.

You hold it in your claw and with your beak

Like surgery, perform seedectomy.

Passion Fly

What beauty in the Passion Fly

Who’s real name: Gulf Fritillary.

A deep orange cape all trimmed in black

And underneath, lace filigree.

What grace in your expression pours

Itself on flowers by my path.

Your visit brings a magic dust

A spreading of community.

The life-design includes your work,

So gentle, silent, delicate

I thank you for the gifts you bring

And I appreciate your craft.

Peacock

Of all the colors which my eyes have ever seen

Few can surpass the iridescent blues and greens

Your feathers flash in brilliance in our eyes.

You glorify our days with peacock praise.

San Antonio Zoo

We traveled, our whole chorus, to the zoo

In San Antonio, a lovely day.

There was a sign by the gorilla’s cage

Be careful, he throws things was all it said.

We looked, but we saw nothing he could throw.

We crowded in so we could see up close.

We all wore camel blazers, very sharp.

He smiled at us, it seemed, and then

Created his own ammo, which he threw

Just as the sign had warned that he would do.

The camel-colored blazers nicely showed

The accuracy with which his missiles flew.

When we got to the church where we would sing

It was a source of laughter when someone

Would ask, "What’s