I thought when I retired, the “L” word would find a permanent dent on my sofa but she’s been mostly an outside dog while I go to work chasing words, for this poet can’t stop the hunt   she barks for attention like the other mutts when I get home in the late afternoon and sits between us at night in front of the TV, quiet and resting, though occasionally throwing hints that she’s tired of being alone so much with a look from the eyes that say   why did you even adopt me?

morning sun peeked before clouds swallowed leaving a gray blanket sky   if you can count raindrops can you call that rain?   if there’s the smattering of a gloomy feeling is that yet a feeling?   you might see me walking this morning, head down   saying HI with clouds in my voice,   looking inside to see if it’s going to rain

a winter’s flight south Canadiens and their geese honk with an accent