Buddy

(No photo of Buddy to go along with today's installment ... sorry ... but I like the play of light and shadow in this one, taken at Cox Arboretum, thought you might like it, too)

Today's poem was written a long time ago, but the memories remain strong.

I might as well tell you now, Buddy was a Beagle, much in evidence in the neighborhood ... his neighborhood ... his yard ... and sometimes in his vehicle, as his people took him along for the ride.

But, as the poem relates, he was often indoors, too ... at the window, looking out on the world. Often, when I'd look out to see if it was raining, or snowing, or a sunny day suitable for a stroll in the neighborhood, there would be Buddy looking out his window, too.

Buddy moved away a long time ago, but the memories remain, and I still sometimes expect to see him looking back at me from across the street.

The poem:

BUDDY

Sometimes,
when I'm alone,
I look out
my front window,
and there's Buddy,
staring back at me
from across the way.

Resting his chin
on the back
of his gray sofa,
he trains a sharp eye
on the street,
watching for dogs,
or squirrels,
or maybe even cats.

He watches, puzzled
that I have no leash
as I trot off
on my daily rounds,
for I'm sure
Buddy must think
I'm a Beagle, too,
as house-bound
and lonely as he.
© 1996

(originally published in Anterior Poetry Monthly)

Today's word: house-bound