Bagged
Simon says “this is a good place for a nap.”
He’s got that sleepy look. The staff was fixing the irrigation system and all the supplies are in this nylon feed bag. The drip line is coiled up for the perfect bed. Almost.
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A Friend
I met him first in the bright moonlight,
His figure was distinct,
T’was a lonely night, so I said “Hello,”
But not a sound from him.
He passed me by in the bright moonlight,
his figure clad in black.
I met him again on a wintry night,
I knew him at a glance.
I think he recognized me too,
For as he passed me by.
He brushed by my leg with a throaty purr,
And I knew I’d found a friend.
—Elinor Rowan
(1923—2017)