(April 21, 2019)
The dog, like a big
flop-eared wooly beast , lay down,
stared blandly at me;
small chores mined for their light worth,
“Time”* and I took our calm ease.
*(This well may be the start of the further adventures of Scribe and Time, one is a writer and one is a dog. Often, they confuse their roles. Of course, Time is the hero. Or is that Heroine. Scribe has yet to look and Time seems content to let the matter remain unasked and unanswered. They live as always they have. But that well may change. The pair share many things: cheese and apple slices; head rubs (though Time often employs teeth, not paws) and each think they have the best of all possibly idylls. But a third lurks just offstage, ready at a moment’s notice to intrude. We shall call The Further Adventures something melodramatic: “Time’s Travails” of which “The Dog Stared” is but Episode 1.)