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Oak Tunnel

Oak Tunnel

 

Open door, cool cave,

Green with white oak fungus,

Two dogs lying, tongues lolling.

Dark square patches of cubist shade,

Sun flicks over the leaves

But the deep, dark shade keeps

The dogs heads turned, to wait

Watch for the car’s return; and lie

Panting and dozing in the sun-flecked dapples.

 

The world goes by with three human noises.

Let the mad dog humans

Follow their frantic pursuits

Tapping a roof, vacuuming

And the tinkle of the ice cream van.

Let them disturb

The comfortable solitude of the summer afternoon

With their frantic bustle.

 

We will lie here;

Ears and eyes and limbs all smiling

In the deep glade shade

Under the tunnel of oak.

 

Penelope Dumere © 2008

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