They slowly strode across the sand,
Their footsteps sinking; in each hand
They carried books, sunglasses, and
......Their towels, brightly-hued, Egyptian,
......On each, a hieroglyph inscription
And pictures from that far-off ancient land.

They found that perfect spot they'd sought,
And spread their towels, smoothly taut,
Then organized the stuff they'd brought,
......And soon, at sphinx's feet reclining,
......Their limbs midst pyramids entwining,
On camelback they sprawled in silent thought.

Surrounded by the crashing seas
And sounds that carried in the breeze,
They settled down to read, at ease,
......But sunlight lost to thick cloud cover
......As day's-end chill began to hover,
And they grew ever colder, by degrees.

They snatched their towels - how they snapped
And flapped in gusts that raised whitecapped
Green wavelets out at sea. Now wrapped
......In terrycloth Saharan landscapes
......Fast redeployed as anti-sand capes,
They sadly quit the shore, their beach plans scrapped.

A true companion, Mr. Buckley,
Dearer friend I've never found.
Delight you gave for twenty years -
I'll miss your whinny, and the sound
Of braided tail-bells tinkling. Luck'ly

Old mem'ries linger long and strong.
Like sweat from hard fast trots, my tears
Drop sweetly to the ground. So long

Fair Buck, of noble bearing.
Remember me, who rode you well.
I took your tack down from the wall;
Empty stands your old, worn stall.
No longer will I spend a spell
Devoted to your careful caring.

My bags are stacked beside me neatly,
....As circling cars swing slowly by.
I'm waiting for my sis to meet me
....And scanning crowds to catch her eye,

When Grandma Muzz - out of the blue -
Sashays my way. No, no, untrue!
....It's twenty years now she's been dead.
....Distinctive perfume - that's the thread
....That's spun her image in my head.

I'm shopping at the market, standing
....In line to purchase rainbow trout.
The young cashier is deftly handing
....Us rain checks: "Sorry, all sold out..."

Her scent wafts by: Patchouli oil -
A fume so pungent I recoil
....And find myself at once conveyed
....To French class, Holy Cross, tenth grade:
....A schoolmate daily over-sprayed.


I've always been a nosy one:
Few scents I wouldn't stoop to sniff,
Few foods I'd scarf without a whiff,
But many, once I'd snuffed, I'd shun.

I check the milk before I pour it,
The pineapple before I core it,
The cantaloupe before I buy it,
The broccoli before I try it.

I love my well-honed sense of smell -
My Kellie nose. It keeps me linked
To past events; before I've blinked,
I'm elsewhere for the briefest spell.


My daughter needs a spring bouquet for
....Her friend, who's starring in some play.
I make my choice, proceed to pay for
....Ambrosial blooms, then go my way -

When all at once, I'm nine years old
And shaking, though the room's not cold.
....The air's a redolent thick haze;
....My Grandpa, coffined, meets my gaze,
....Midst deathly fragrant floral sprays.

And now some friend from Europe's greeting
....Me: hugs me twice and kisses thrice.
Although his welcoming's so fleeting,
....His ling'ring after-shave's so nice...

Aromas floating round my face
Transport me to some dreamy place -
....Encircling arms of my old beau,
....Whose spicy eau de cologne I know.
....(Some memories one should let go.)

Carol's presence hovers everywhere -
Cupboards, dressers, bookshelves, drawers - she's there.
Calendars still hanging on the wall -
Clues to how they lived, in Carol's scrawl.
In all the rooms throughout Doug's home
I see how much she means to him.

Carol's clothes we fold and stack away;
Remnants of her stylish good taste stay.
First a belt appears that matched a skirt;
Then wool sweaters, elegant, inert,
On shelves inside the cedar closet.
I sort them, claim one, straighten, close it.

Carol's shoes lie scattered on the floor;
Hard decisions - junk them, keep them, or
Pick a few that Monica might wear.
All the others - sandals, pumps - each pair
We box and ready for Goodwill.
Tough calls. Each takes a goodly while.

Carol's purses need a going-through;
This is something Doug wants me to do.
Candy, Danny's toys, a meal receipt,
Grocery lists... the finds are bittersweet.
Her wallet's too jam-packed with feeling;
We open, shut it, without fooling.

Carol's study's crammed with all her stuff;
One new item's added, off the cuff.
Picking up a small Chilean rug
Hidden in the cedar closet, Doug
Unrolls it next to her old love seat;
She'd surely like this touch. He leaves it.

....A small red oval sign
Is posted on our backyard gate;
Its silver letters clearly state:
......"Beware of Dog".
This chocolate Lab of mine
Has barked up quite a reputation
Based largely on her irritation
......With passers-by who amble, run, or jog.

....She's likewise loath to see
The mail arrive at her address,
Or dark-brown trucks from UPS
......Approach our street.
....She's known to cause to flee
Jehovah's Witness doorbell ringers,
Or any canvasser who lingers,
......Or meter readers checking out their beat...

....The local kiddos call,
But disregard her fearsome bark;
They glide right up on scooters, park
......Them near the fence,
....And shout, "Go get your ball!"
They've learned gruff growling turns to wagging
When Hattie hears that word. Zigzagging
......Across the bricks, she nabs the ball she scents,

....And flips it through the slats.
They send it soaring through the air;
She snags it, flings it back with flair;
......She'd fetch all day.
....A youngster gently pats
The panting dog. Aloud he's reading
The warning sign that he's not heeding.
......"I think, 'Beware of Good Dog,' it should say."

We stood beside our car together
In splendid, summer-fall-like weather
Getting set to cut the tether.
Loud honking echoed from the sky
As fat black southbound geese flew by.

Our heads jerked upwards, awestruck, staring;
A perfect "V" gave us our bearing
After eighteen years preparing.
Back home, we're trying to regroup:
Our only bird has flown her coop.