Late in December

Forgetting where I am,

or rather not remembering

where I had come from,

Kody and me strolling along

the green velvet bordered walkway

The sun shining warmly

forgetting where I am,

or rather not remembering  

where I had come from,

strolling along on this

day late in December;

strolling along on this

seventy-three degree day

to the south-west

the hazy blue

Santa Monica Mountains

seen above red tiled roofs

Off leash,

bounding up an embankment

after a squirrel then,

front paws stretched upward onto the bark,

barking,

inviting the squirrel

to come to play with him.

“Isn’t going to work,”

I yell to Kody,

“that Squirrel won’t come down to play with you.”

On we go,

my bounding,

squirrel chasing friend and me.

Forgetting the howling,

sub-zero winds of Chicago

and the stinging,

blowing sleet

and the mounting, mounding snow

forgetting that on this

Southern California

December day

elsewhere there are sub-zero winds

and stinging, blowing sleet

along with mounting, mounding snow.

Forgetting where I had come from,

But so glad to no longer be there!

©December 27, 2011 / Mark M Lichterman