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A Snake In The Grass Is Worth Two In The Bush

Paw
My cat/kitten,
Black as Spades
With one white mitten,
Stopped dead in his tracks
And stared.
He could have been a statue.
So, I walked carefully
To stand beside him,
And also stared.
In the grass,
Perhaps a foot away,
Was a thin, long and
Young-looking snake.
It was stretched out,
In curves,
With its head erect,
And motionless.
Much like Paw.
There are not many snakes
On Partridge Island, and I have seen
Much bigger.
But, still,
It was a snake.
Paw was curious,
Cautious,
And scared.
I was careful.
Old Nick
Chose well

To use a snake,

To bring down
Humankind.
I guess we three
Waited five full minutes
With none of us moving.
So, I scooped up Paw
(He made no complaint),
And retreated the way
We had come.
I know the snake felt
Every step we trod.

{I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2023 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

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Paw, The Cat/Kitten, Does Not Mean To Kill The Li’l Bird

I was sitting on my porch
Humble enough,
At my Lighthouse Keeper’s house,
When Paw, the cat/kitten,
Black as a  raven
With one white mitten,
Started playing with a flock
Of little birds.
They were in the bushes,
Flitting from branch to branch
Up and down and over.
He tried to catch one
And then another
And then an another
And then –

He succeeded.
He stood over the bird
Pushed it with his paw,
Sniffed at it,

Then came tearing over to me.
He snagged my pant leg
And pulled.
“Come come come” was in his meows,
So, I did.
The sea breeze ruffled the bird’s feathers
But
There was more movement than that.
I picked up the tiny bird,
Touched its breast,
Felt the trembling heart,
Saw its beak open and close,
And just held it closer to the sun.
It stirred, and stood, and wobbled
And gasped open its eyes
And started to fly
Before it stood.
Right back to the other li’l birds.
Paw slept by my feet
The rest of the day.

{I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2023 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

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A Feast Nor’ By Nor’west To Satisfy Partridge Island

Yesterday, a departing fishing boat
Left a letter on my dock,
At Partridge Island.
The letter told me to be standing here,
On this beach, looking toward shore
At exactly 2:30.
And to bring my telescope.
Which I have done.
Dutiful as I am.
And . . .

Well . . .
I’m sure glad there is no fog.
After opening my telescope
And putting it to my eye,
And focusing,
I spy
With my little eye,
Sister Darling of the
Rarefied Church of the World (reformed)
Wearing a long cloak
To her ankles.
And, upon opening it,
Revealing that she
Had decided
To wear nothing else.
Oh! Hallelujah! Yes!

{I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2023 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

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Paw, The Cat/Kitten, Takes A Walk

I have had to affix

A bell,

Around the neck of

Paw, my cat kitten,

Black as feathers

With one white mitten,


Because

He has acquired

A taste for birds.


This is natural and

Was to be expected.


I might not have done so

On the Mainland,

Where birds are plentiful

And fair game.

But on this island, 

Which one can circumnavigate

In under a two hour walk,

I feel the birds need

All the help they can get.

So – there it is.


And Paw, my cat kitten,

Protested for about

A half hour,

And not since.

He’s a smart li’l bugger.

He adapts.

And I swear, he gets

Faster.

Fast enough to still

Dine on the occasional

Avian feast.


Which he proves, by

Spitting out an errant

Feather or two

At my feet.

{I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2023 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

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‘Tis An Ill Wind Indeed That Would Stop Beauty On Partridge Island

The bell rang from my Lighthouse dock,
Unexpectedly,
And down I went
To find Sister Darling of
The Rarefied Church of the World (reformed),
Having been delivered by
An outgoing fishing boat.


She had a basket over her arm
From which wafted aromas that
Promised a delightful evening repast.
She removed a packet from the basket,
Handed the basket to me,
Scooped up Paw
My cat/kitten,
Black as Blood Pudding
With one white mitten,
And headed away with him.


They went toward the Lighthouse,
While I took the provisions to my kitchen.
Then I caught them up.


Sister Darling was kneeling on the lee side
Of the Lighthouse tower,
Away from the assault of ocean wind.
She was digging in the earth
Helped by Paw, his front paws
In a flurry.

Her package contained flower seeds,
And she obviously had the Hope of God
In her repertoire.


Hey,
God is good to me
When Sister Darling is around,
So I knelt beside Paw.

Dig  Dig  Dig

{I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2023 / A lot of stuff have I seen/A lot of stuff to report}

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Does The Visitor To Partridge Island Want to Play?

Paw

My cat/kitten,

Black as night, with

One white mitten,

Has grabbed my pant leg,

And urges me to go with him.

Does he think I’m his father,

Or some sort of brother?

But off we go.

He leads me to the waterside

And there, splashing and frollicking

Like all get out,

Is a baby seal.

I like seals,

They are always smiling.

Paw looks at me

&

What the heck,

I toss him in.

First, I find out

Paw can really swim,

And, second,

The baby seal is a tease.

A gentle tease.

He butts Paw with his snout.

Dives in front of him,

And comes up behind.

Tickles him

(I swear)

With his whiskers.

I let them go at it,

Until I see Paw is

Getting tired,

So I scoop him out.

The baby seal looks at me,

And gives a bark,

So I bend over

And I scritch his head,

And away he scoots.

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2023 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA.UEL

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Sister Darling Brings Religious Fervor On Walpurgis Night

One chore I have

As Lighthouse Keeper

On Partridge Island,

Is to count the ships

As they come

And as they go.

They signal me with their bells,

And some, with their new-fangled horns.

It was one of those blasts

That took me down to the dock.

And, indeed,

A ship was leaving for sea.

But first,

(Much to my surprise)

It let off

Sister Darling of

The Rarefied Church Of The World (reformed)

” It’s Saint Walpurga’s Eve”, said she.

“What?” asked I.

“Don’t be an oaf.”

She hit me on the shoulder.

“Grab the cat.”

She heads along the shore.

I scoop up

Paw, my cat/kitten,

Black as the Furies

With one white mitten.

And away we follow.

Sister Darling scoots along the

Narrow path beside the water.

And comes to a stop,

Looking far out to sea.

“Start praying!”

Which I do, for after a

Bout of fervent prayer,

Sister Darling wants fervent relief.

She speaks and sputters about

Ghosts, and opening veils, and

Blessed Saint Walpurga, opening

Doors to God.

Blessed Be! say I

Paw and me, we exchange

A certain glance

Knowing we both

Will feast tonight.

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2023 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA.UEL

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Two Crows Look Out To Sea

Paw, my cat/kitten,

Black as the feathers of night,

With one white mitten,

Is starting, at times,

To put me in my place.

He’s a smart little bugger,

So I let him.

We were walking the perimeter

Of Partridge Island,

Which we do

Once or twice

A week,

When he jumped between my feet,

And damned near tripped me.

Which means

‘Stop, you oaf.’

So I did.

On a scraggly branch,

Of one of the scraggly trees,

Two crows were looking out to sea.

Side-by-side

Moving their heads,

Bob to the left

Bob to the right

Exchanging crow croaks,

Ruffling head feathers,

Throats held up in unison.

Seeing what they see,

Telling each other,

Moving, at times,

In tandem,

Along the scraggly branch,

Upon the scraggly tree.

Joy.

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2023 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA.UEL

0

How Does Palm Sunday Become A Religious Event On Partridge Island?

Without Any Announcement,

And No Invitation,

Sister Darling

Of The Rarefied Church of the World (reformed)

Arrives on my Lighthouse Keeper’s dock,

Through the kind ministrations of


An outgoing fishing boat,

To deliver to me


An actual frond of Palm.

Paw, my cat/kitten,


Black as an upcoming tomb

With one white mitten,


Has much sport with it,

As does Sister Darling have with me.

She will be unable to visit


On the Sunday next,

As there will be “Hallelujah,


Praise the Lord”,

Services to perform.


However,

She will still hear


Such praises,

Today.

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2023 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

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