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my neighbor lines the lower perimeter

of his wrought iron fence—

its western side aligns with our own backyard’s—

with twelve inches of chicken wire,

four hundred yards of the stuff

in order to allow his sister’s two puppies,

tiny Yorkshire terriers, to freely roam

and not slip through the vertical spires

when she comes to visit.

what we do for those we love,

what we do for our canine companions…

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they’re calling for rain today,

this craptastic Wednesday,

but I see opportunity—

poetry, a good book, baking bread,

sourdough starter, perhaps—

a stunning extravaganza

of daydreaming quality time

perfectly, uniquely just for me