Bodhi’s Terror

Stay by,

Stay by,

A coidog howls

In the moonless sky.


The storms builds,

Warm fog crawls

Low to the ground,

And above,

Red lightening

Burns the heaven's cry.


What of today,

These strange portents,

Where night meets day,

And the heavens vent

With darkness and fury,

The shaman’s way.


Driving down Main Street

In a battered car

Traffic slowed

And stopped,

Before the flood of tourist feet.


Right there at the cart

Of the hotdog man

And his daughter,

Selling gourmet sausages

And bottled water.


She caught a glimpse of Bodhi dog,

From the window

His head hung out

Catching the breeze and warming sun.


And ran up to say,

“Just like my little Cocker,

In every way.”


In a moment's second

It was clear

She was special

In some fey way,


Offering a supplicant’s knuckle

For him to sniff

With a friendly chuckle

As if to say, “It OK.”


He wagged and bent

His sweet head down

To catch a pat, a scratch, a treat

That lent the gesture

It’s gracious round.


Then he looked up,

Catching her eye,

And in there saw

The empty cup—-


Bodhi fell back in

Howling terror,

At his error

Before an angel’s mirror.


It can happen any day,

In some unexpected way,

That spirits of affinity,

Touch us with infinity.




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