A Discarded Cat

A glimpse of daily life by Lawrence “Mack in Texas” Hall

A Discarded Cat

She adopted us several weeks ago
And after the usual hissings and spittings
Was accepted by the other cats
And the yapping dachshunds? Well, not so much

Cinnamon-Cat loves to be petted and fed
She follows me about my daily work
With plants and plots and pots and honeybees
But she doesn’t quite trust me, not yet

But I’ll do my best; you can bet on that
For she is no longer a discarded cat

Flute Solo Through a Scratchy Record

From a tiny speaker in a tiny radio
From a broadcast fifty miles away
From a scratchy record some fifty years old
From the lips of a flutist no longer alive

An artist whose parents and teachers long ago
Spoke of embouchures and possibilities
Of lessons for however many dollars each
Saved from a job down at the shop or mill

And from the people, hardworking and strong
Someone worked those lives into a song

Thanks to the Dim Bulbs

I needed a light bulb from the hardware store
And for a gadget three D-cell batteries
The light bulb was nine dollars (I passed it by)
But bought the batteries for eight dollars each

I think we’re all going to be shopping more now
In the recesses of closets and kitchen shelves
And maybe behind the dryer for an errant sock
And stretching the sell-by dates a week or two

But let us be thankful that we do have light bulbs
And rooms in which to enjoy their glow

The Sunshine Protection Act

Our Senate has passed the Sunshine Protection Act
And if Old Sol is a sentient being
(And most of us rather hope he is)
He will be much surprised to hear of it

We didn’t know the sun needed protecting:
He rises every day and gives us his best
His brightest “good morning” slanting across
Our happy dreams as they become our hopes

Some tell us that our star is a minor sun
But we’ve never met a finer one!

Upon Finding a Long-Lost Pocketknife

“A man’s not dressed without his pocketknife.”
-my father, and probably yours

Deep-diving into the sofa and its depths
In quest of the elusive tv remote
A shiny treasure gleamed in the musty dark:
My long-lost British Army pocketknife

O, beloved opener of tins and envelopes
Dear sharer-out of slices of summer apples
The gardener and mechanic’s most useful tool
The philosopher’s most thoughtful instrument

In all one’s studies and adventures in life
A man’s not dressed without his pocketknife

The Dachshund and the ‘Possum

I let the dog out for her night patrol
To sniff the boundaries and take a stroll

But out in the dark, beyond the cat
That was where an old ‘possum was at

The dachshund stiffened; she was filled with rage
She charged the enemy; she snarled, “ENGAGE!”

I commanded the dachshund to let it go
With bark and bite and snap her answer was “no”

The fierce dachshund growled; the old ‘possum hissed
I grabbed for the dog but obviously missed

I went back inside to take a shower
Thinking to give the stupid dog an hour

And so it passed; her allotted time is up
The standoff continues ‘tween ‘possum and pup

At dawn it may be that one is dead –
I’ll find out then; for now I’m off to bed!

The Day Internet Explorer Died

Our gadgets from the store, all shiny and new
The subjects of our brags and anecdotes
Are soon held together with Scotch tape and glue
And covered with coffee stains and sticky-notes

Codings and software must also decay
Metaphorical patches fall apart
They too enjoy only a limited day
Thus the limits of electronic art

To our own end, yes, we eventually toddle –
To be replaced by the latest model!

Image from https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Cat_(37699872756).jpg

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