Furry-ous Weather Report

There are poodles on the ground,  

Poodles, I tell you, not puddles 

The weather’s purr-fectly crazy  

It's a cat-astrophic muddle 

Gumboots and galoshes  

Just won’t do the job 

Because it's literally raining, 

Get this, raining cats and dogs 

Forget your umbrellas, 

Your bumbershoots, discard 

For it’s sprinkling springer spaniels,  

Himalayans and St Bernards 

You might get clawed at on the head 

Or drenched with disgusting drool 

My advice is, “Take your allergy pills 

And don’t send your kids to school” 

Cars are damaged, traffic is snarled 

And swerving into ditches 

The parking lots, or barking lots, 

Are littered with pussies and bitches    

It's best to stay at home  

And just watch it on the news  

‘Cause I just stepped into a cross  

Of a cockapoo and shih tzu

Morning Has Broken

The fetal moon is cradled in cumulus 

Like a marionette, 

She is lifted from the stage 

Away from the spotlight on dawn  

As water boils for my early morning tea 

Strips of stratus redden the horizon 

Slowly, slowly, slowly 

A sliver of light expands to reveal  

The crown of a new day 

A chorus of boisterous birds  

Announces this blessed event  

My breathing is laboured  

As I head through the door, 

Camera clutched in hand, 

My black bag in another 

Quickly stocked with necessities  

Of paper, pen and a thermos  

Of honeyed elixir 

I race through unseen lines 

Of silk 

Stranded between the pathway, 

Then am christened  
With a sudden  

Suggestion of rain  

Washing away  

The gossamer artistry  

I am drawn to the dawn, 

The nature of softness,  

Clouds gilded with light  

Herons search  

For gifts in the shoreline; 

I have found mine - 

Words of elation 
Are delivered to mind
      

Fabricating Fun

My mother darned socks,
Her forehead furrowed  

As she tried to thread  

The needle’s cycloptic eye 

On the upstairs landing 

Standing at the ready 

Was the Singer machine  

But it was hardly noticed 

Except for dusting day, 

Its voice dormant  

In the oak cabinet  

But when the radio played  

Buttons and Bows, 

Chantilly Lace,  

Blue Velvet,  

Forever in Blue Jeans 

Its foot pedal  

Began to bob and weave 

At least that’s the yarn I heard 

From my older brother  

Whose pattern it was  

To leave me in stitches  

With the stories he told