Happy Poetry Friday!
Lately I’ve been watching our dear puppy, Cyrus (who is not so much a puppy anymore), move gracefully into old age. Once a rambunctious, exuberant lover of life, he has calmed down considerably now that he is almost ten. I watch him sometimes in the morning, pausing at the top of the stairs before he cautiously finds his way. Is he waiting for his eyes to focus, for a hand to guide him, or maybe for assurance from the voice inside his heart? There was a time when he sailed down those steps, barely touching one, let alone all nine.
My poem was inspired by this poem:
“Something Told the Wild Geese”
by Rachel Field.
Something told the wild geese
It was time to go.
Though the fields lay golden
Something whispered,—‘Snow.’
Leaves were green and stirring,
Berries, luster-glossed,
But beneath warm feathers
Something cautioned,—‘Frost.’
You can read the rest of the poem here.
The Voice Inside
by Rose Cappelli
He pauses at the top
of the stairs
where once he bounded down
without a care.
Now something warns
Beware.
One cautious step,
another follows
when something whispers
Take it slow.
His eyes adjust,
he’s on his way,
then something tells him
You’re okay.
Draft©2022RoseCappelli
Buffy has the round up today here. Be sure to stop by for lots of poetry goodness. I’m at the Highlights Foundation for a writing retreat with my critique group members and a few other friends this weekend. Tonight the moon is shining, the stars are out, and inspiration is in the air. I can’t wait!
Imagine the Possibilities 
My dog is now 15. He used to fly up the stairs to catch a ball we threw over the balcony. He would get it and toss it back down to us. Now when I go upstairs I tell him stay. If he goes up on his own without us knowing, he often gets stuck halfway up, and he rarely comes down without being carried. I do miss his playfulness but I’m grateful he is still here. I’m sure you’ve read Mary Oliver’s dog poems. Dogs are great subjects for poetry.
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Thanks, Margaret. Yes, I love Mary Oliver’s dog poems (actually all her poems). Just realized I haven’t written a lot of poems about Cyrus, so maybe it’s time to do more of that.
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Ooh, I love Oliver’s poems, and yours is wonderful. A real sense of the caution (and comfort, sometimes) of aging. Have a wonderful time at your retreat! I’m jealous!
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I love Rachel Field’s poem–great inspiration for yours. And my hound, Dakota shares that “Take it slow” experience. We’ve had him for 7+ years and assume he’s somewhere around 10. Some days he still thinks he’s a sprinter. Others, not so much.
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Rose, you have deftly described the aging process, as we come to know it more keenly, when the years stack up. Only yesterday, when my three year old grand-daughter asked me to dance with her, my cautious moves clearly reflected my age. Your poem,
courtesy of your beloved Cyrus, portrays aging with a gentle accuracy.
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Thank you, Alan.
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You give us such a good example of what a mentor text can do for our writing. You didn’t just rewrite Fields’ poem, you took the heart of it for your Cyrus poem. I definitely think there should be more Cyrus poems!
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Rose, This is such a sweet poem about your dog and aging! I love both of the poems you posted. We are having a bit of that snow this morning that made the geese leave in the poem you shared. I think mentor poems are so important and have used them a lot when I write poetry with children. They give us all a place to start – which is sometimes the hardest part – getting started! Enjoy your retreat! Sounds wonderful!
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It applies to cats, too, of course. Our Chica cat is much more careful about what jumps she will undertake (and claws her way up instead, which can be painful). Aren’t our animals such good guides towards poems?
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Thanks for this poetic glimpse of Cyrus, Rose. Our Smidgey is 13 (or older? she was a rescue and we’ve had her for 13 years, not sure of her actual age) and she is constantly listening for the “Voice Inside” and for her ‘eyes to adjust’ on stairs, sidewalks, etc. We are lucky humans to watch our pets age gracefully. Puppy hugs to Cyrus. :)
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Awww. Thanks, Bridget. And puppy hugs to Smidgey, too. Rescues are the best, aren’t they? For some reason I was having trouble commenting on your Poetry Friday post. So sorry you were sick but hopefully you are getting back in the swing of things now. Take care!
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