Tuesday, September 1, 2020

Midnight Bathers

 

 

By John I. Blair

When I glance out
My kitchen window
Late at night
I spy beneath a lamp
A plastic bowl.


It sits there so the birds
And other animals
Can slake their thirst
On baking
Summer noons.


But after dark
It morphs into a footbath,
A wading pool, a place
For water dancing,
Splashing, washing off,


For liquid larking
In the moonlight.
And little owls
Screech
In nearby trees,


Sad they cannot
Chance damp fun
With possums,
Toads,
Raccoons.


©2020 John I. Blair, 8/30/2020


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