In Praise of June! (now departing)

Today's the day that ends the month
The last of thirty days.
The month's been good and so now I
Will give it fulsome praise.
All hail to June! Shy of July,
The month that's just past May.
What wonder June! Its days were warm;
I'd be inclined to stay.
But time moves on and so do I
(I've heard those words somewhere?)
Oh never mind, all hail to June!
I'll see you soon. I swear!

I don't really have to pee.

It's too bad dogs can't talk,
To explain why they balk.
They whine, "I gotta go!"
Then do they? Clearly, no!

While dog-sitting I am vigilant to respond to the dog's entreaties lest the carpet suffer on my watch. Unfortunately, the dog is just yanking my chain. We go out, she looks around, sniffs the air and then looks at me, "What are we doin' out here?"

"We're out here so that you can take care of... natural urges."

"Oh. That's nice. But I got nothin'."

"Well let's go inside again."

"Right. See you in half an hour?"

Bad Dog!

Swelter

Cook and fry, roast and boil,

Today is just a time of toil.

Heat is high, air is thick,

Dreaming of a mountain creek.

Moving slow and finding shade

Am I in Miami-Dade?

A Whine Sonnet

"I'd hate to complain" is most often said
By folks who love just that most dearly.
And somewhere I heard, or maybe I read
That complaint is a toxin! Or nearly
At any rate. It's certainly not good.
It dries up your bones, drives away your friends
And you all know it well if you have stood
Within earshot of a carper who lends
Liberally of his dissatisfaction.
Or maybe you know it from autodidaction?
Repent then, in defense of your bones
And even more, save your loved ones some groans!
Let us then gather and agree to refrain
From whiny self-pity and words that complain.

Dead? Not Dead.

I heard it whispered that maybe I'm dead.
Poems have been sparse for some weeks.
Never you mind, think "happy" instead
Then you'll get the poems that you seeks.