Deckspeak

Painting by Glenda Bierstad


Deckspeak

Funny how mostly
we use the back door
strolling over our large redwood deck
for our comings and goings.
A lot of folks are like that here.
Front doors are for guests.
Wish the Hispanic neighbor
with the vicious dog would pay
more attention to it. I have been
singled out by that maladjusted drooling
rabid-jawed fleabag
as an adversary, and it tears out its claws
and breaks it’s old teeth on our
chain link fence trying to get at me.
But maybe the majestic hundred year old maple
towering in his back yard, throwing shade
on our deck, and golden leaves
on our tiny yard, compensates for
coexisting with a rabies-ridden Shepherd .
What halcyon warm and still evenings
are spent during summer twilight
sipping tea on overstuffed cushions
on that burly deck; staring out
at the strawberry fields sprouting
on the glaciers of Mt. Rainier looming
large over the corner of the alley—
living complacent in our small piece
of Americana, nestled in the muscular
foothills of the Cascades,
living on the northern edge
of the ring of fire;
hardly aware of the big city lights
twenty miles distant.

Glenn Buttkus February 2010