Sitting with the hounds
Cold Norway Swiss in my hands
They watch their milky prey
Waiting
Stalking.
Slices of bread spread
Thin toppings of Italian figs, French Brie
And fresh roasted hazelnut,
I watch the last vestiges of light
As it’s rays droop down
Like a tired hounds eyes,
A comfortable bed calls
Yet I heed not.
Tired paws have I
And not quite to the precipice of sleep,
To entertain those who wonder
“What is she thinking”,
I say to you this,
Take time to unwind,
Enjoy the fruits of natures bounty,
Take care of wounds
Of hearts broken,
And never forget
We are children of the universe
Fighting on the side of right
And enjoying a simple pleasure
When afforded.
Last words before parting
As the hounds inhale nights air
Growling,
Protecting,
Their due right
This is a moment of a life,
Simple yet elegant
And feeling blessed in the knowledge of
Being here and now
To celebrate
A feast for supper
Shared amongst friends
In the realm of unseen yet loved.
Tonight I sat on the grass amongst the green of grass and clover, blessed to hear the hum of the bees going from one pale flower to another and thinking, damn, this is what it is all about! A light supper of bread and fig and nuts. Sun going to sleep and moving to next in need.