Tess Gallagher's Dog

The pot roast woke me
around four A.M., in a
strange bed, the heat pad,
provided by thoughtful hostess
cooking my feet
Supper conversation had
ranged from the current
presidential campaigns to
marsupials in New Zealand
where my host had resided
for twenty odd years
The resident cat, a scruffy
long-haired calico, jumped
up on the bedside table and
snooped among my foreign
possessions, hopped down,
apparently in no mood to
join me and share her purr
Tess Gallagher lay on the
bedside table, her little white
dog downstairs, while she
slept in her cottage in
County Sligo, Ireland
Got up and cleared my bladder
and decided it prudent to
go back to sleep, but
could not, so pulled out
the yellow tablet and pen
to get my misery down
Eye-balled the Tess Gallagher
Anthology and considered turning
a few pages, but age has taught
me that to be a good guest, it
would be wise to close my eyes
for a few, whether I can actually
sleep or not
Glad I came to visit this
little farm and stay in the
bedroom where my friend
slept as a child in the house
where she grew up
To witness the sheep and lambs
frolicking in the field, the old barn
still standing, but in need of repair
The wholesome country food,
especially the nettle soup
served with friendship and
conviviality… the road trip to
Neah Bay to see the Makah
Artifacts that we saw at the
actual dig forty years ago, now
preserved for posterity in the
MakahTribal museum
Tess Gallagher’s dog rode along
and was a perfect gentleman,
the whole trip
So many memories packed into
a three day visit and I was sent
away with a loaf of home made
wheat bread, the wheat ground
by my host and a dozen farm
fresh eggs
So grateful that enclaves like
that little farm still exist in these
swiftly changing times
Our parents are dead and gone
It’s our turn to be sages
to carry on…
RMK, Spring 2112.