We live in a cozy backwater
Dressed in the style of early America
With wildflowers, corn, and barking dogs
Filling every empty place.

Not much happens here,
Where the big question involves
Sizing up oncoming dogs
And their humans
Who seem always to be
Oddly elswhere
And unaware of the wild
Possibilities
Present in these moments.

We like it this way
In this place so oddly
Unencumbered by the nuances
Of passing time.

We especially liked it
Yesterday after lunch--
When a pterodactyl spread his wings
Across our deep running still waters
To blot out the sun, stir the air
And glide away under the canopy of maples
Young in the days of Rochambeau--

As we reached for the leash
To protect our dachshund
From the toy poodle and her people
Splashing upriver--
Close to our dream
But not close enough to see.