Freestyle poetry at it's worst.
Big, Stinky, Black
(The rest won't rhyme so drop the cadence that just popped into your head.)
They wait for people.
They sleep for hours.
They bark like Cujo at any harmless deliverer.
But sometimes they get bored.
And the recyclables that we hoard..., as we gather enough for the trip to the bin to be worth the trouble,
Become too much to resist.
And when we come through the door.
We are greeted with leaping, whining, dancing
and dog hi-jinx.
And with home-chewed post-consumer confetti.
Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.