Poem: Squirrel Rapture

Our dog stands, rigid and quivering
In the middle of Dallas Road, her nose
Turned up to an overhanging chesnut tree.
Up the road, a truck comes out of the rising sun,
On fire and bearing down on her. I’m frozen
At the curb, unable to move or speak. The half-ton
Slows and stops just feet short of our young poodle, still
Totally enthralled. I take a breadth and wade into the street,
Wave to the smiling woman at the wheel, and gently
Slip a finger under Tula’s collar, breaking the thrill
Of ten million years of hunting mastery. I lead her
Back to the sidewalk with encouraging words: “This way!”
And she offers a quiet “Yip” and sheepish grin, giving in to
Her walk with me. And the driver, sounding a friendly “Beep”
On her horn, resumes her trip. But we won’t forget
This moment of squirrel rapture. When civilization paused
As if to capture a bit of canine history.

Hubert Meeker

  Photo by Barry Behnke

Photo by Barry Behnke

Poem: The Hour Before Dawn (for Herb)

Youth Poet Laureate

Youth Poet Laureate