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The gate must be open
And the bed linens fresh;
With freedom at last
For our feline companions
To stalk the grey wren.

The heat must be off
And the ancient blinds dusted,
Though the rays of the sun
Are allowed to shine through.

Pies must be made:
Lemon and chocolate,
Butterscotch, apple.
Meringue and warm crusts
Perched on the sill.

The telly is off –
Or muted in sorrow.
Some need a distraction,
So bowls of mixed nuts
Sit close to its heat.

The lawn is raked clean
And errant leaves mounded
For the children’s and doodlebugs’
Tumbles and digs.
They will hear nothing.

She is now dressed,
Coiffed shiny and golden
Like Jack’s stolen egg.
Her dress is a peony pink.

We sit with hands folded,
Palms pressed together
And gaze at the sun.

 


Pamela Villars lives in Austin, Texas and aspires to be the female Dog Whisperer. When not training her wild dogs, she works for a large non-profit, writes and blogs, and performs wedding ceremonies for anyone who will let her.

© 2010, Pamela Villars

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