Sermon at the Fence
Long before rosy dawn
fingerpaints the waking sky,
the reverend's backyard hound delivers
his first sermon of the day—
a deep-throated screed for
neighbors in the hands of angry gods,
martial oratory with dire intonations and
exploding points of emphasis
as only preachers and didactic dogs know how,
filled with images of roasted spiders,
devils' smoke pit barbecues,
prophecies of gnawing worms,
warnings of tormenting thirst.
I crawl deeper under cover,
once again ask God and dog
if I can sleep another hour
spared the rattling
of my conscience.
Long before rosy dawn
fingerpaints the waking sky,
the reverend's backyard hound delivers
his first sermon of the day—
a deep-throated screed for
neighbors in the hands of angry gods,
martial oratory with dire intonations and
exploding points of emphasis
as only preachers and didactic dogs know how,
filled with images of roasted spiders,
devils' smoke pit barbecues,
prophecies of gnawing worms,
warnings of tormenting thirst.
I crawl deeper under cover,
once again ask God and dog
if I can sleep another hour
spared the rattling
of my conscience.