Many Moose
Posting this because of a conversation on Obama Is Unfit For Command message board about guns and pets and burial of pets in card board boxes (a universal experience, or should be).
This is admittedly a little juvenile----started as a short story and ended up as a poem or a set piece years ago. And yes Bugle the Beagle was our hunting dog.
Reading it aloud helps the flow. Since I cannot show the alignment as it would be on a page---it looks a little strange----aligning it as centered on a page also helps with the rhythm of the writing.
"Neither Feathers Nor Flowers"
The Procession Begins
Jon, the eldest, leads
Arrayed with feathers
In his head band
Next comes The Girl
Carrying wildflowers
Snatched from the open field
Grave diggers follow
Carrying a box, not hollow,
Inscribed "Bugle, My Beagle"
Scruffy tag-a-longs
Follow singing songs
Carrying feathers and flowers
The Procession moves slowly
Through grasshoppers jumping furiously
Weeds whacking at their legs
Stopping at a well-known site
Little gravediggers use all their might
To sink their shovels
Into the earth so fertile.
To honor Bugle's end
With great dignity, Jon begins
"Let us all be quiet
No sniffling
No giggling
Listen to my words
For today, we gather
To put a friend in this earth
'Bugle, my hunting dog'
Eulogy for Bugle
"Bugle my Beagle
Surely to heaven
You have fled
Soaring like an eagle
Not like a dog that is led"
(Jon continues as tears moisten his face)
"This field shall be his resting place
With Heckle, the Crow, and Goldie the Fish
Hercules, the Cat, who munched on the fish."
Bugle's box is lowered into the hole
Moist earth becomes a mound
The Girl scatters her flowers
On the mound without a sound
As tag-a-longs adorn the mound
With feathers and flowers
Jon removes his feathers
And sticks them in Bugle's mound
As Jon leads The Procession away
He knows that for him
This is his last ceremony
For his life will now have
'Neither Feathers Nor Flowers'.
mj-copyrighted |
