Orate Pro Nobis I dig a hole beneath the autumn apple tree carefully wipe a feather from the spade No stone to mark the grave: my sons are long since past the age of saying eulogies for pets And this was a common robin, doubtless the one who chirped, swaggered across the lawn each spring The cat who saw and seized her chance, is now inside curled up by the fire, washing paws purring While I on my path back to the shed, wonder if the tree will have an extra bloom next year . . .

Return to the front page of this issue:   Amaze   Vol. 6, No. 2   Go to the Poets & Authors page for the poet's biographical sketch and email link. All poems are copyright © 2009 by their respective authors.