Psychedelic DogHe slushed through the yard with the dog, Mosey,
looking for the salsa garden covered with snow.
A foggy down comforter was spread
across the cold compost pile.
Mosey gave it the once-over and waggled on.

Through the grey branches of the bald maple,
the wintry sun dripped a wet, molting light.
“I think I’ve found the salsa garden,”
Mosey barked, wagging through a snowdrift.

He found some green garlic starts,
planted last fall in hope of an orange day.
Over on the frozen patio sat the fable
of a red tablecloth and a bottle of sweet wine,
Mosey dozing in a patch of warm light.

He hears voices, someone’s recipe:
“Fresh cilantro, hot pepper, and black beans,
eight tender Roma plum tomatoes,
an inch of basil, a sprig of rosemary,
a dash of black pepper and a pinch of salt,
a dark green jalapeno,
and a mellow, cool lime.”
Sevenish on the heat scale, he thinks,
two fat, purple candles melting the snow,
Mosey barking, “Let’s go back inside now.”

They entered the kitchen through the side door,
dog wet noses sloshing snow and water,
dripping all over the stale linoleum.

8 Comments

  1. Ah! Joe, this is great. I can see Mosey in my minds eye and he is wonderful. As a dog lover, many times, a dog has provided special moments throughout my own life and to imagine Mosey snuffing around seeking out the truffles of spring is a delight.
    I trust your freshly sought salsa provided that much needed hint of freshness to what sounds rather like an Italian Bolognese and dinner was a hit. A nice Pinot would be acceptable here. B

    1. Thx, B. Yeah, the Pinot possibly instead of the sweet white. Rewrote that line a few times. Still not sure it’s right. Thx for coming back & reading.

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