Saturday, September 2, 2017

Henry




















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser


“Who is he?” asked the beagle as Henry
stepped out of the car.

Henry, he said. He’s had a hard life
and he’s going to stay with us for awhile.

“Is he nice?” The beagle asked. “He’s kinda
funny looking. I’m cute. He’s simultaneously
handsome and ugly. How is that possible?”

Yes. He’s different. Different can be special.
Good special. Please, be polite and say hello.

“Hello, Henry. That food bowl is mine. And,
that muddy place under the porch is mine too. ”

Henry: I smell cats!

The beagle: (to the man) “He’s easily
distracted, isn’t he?”

Henry thrust himself into the shrubs
and grabbed a stick.

The beagle put her nose to the ground and
started walking the fenceline, “I think he should
go back to that place.”

Give him a chance. We all need a chance. Maybe
you can teach him something. You’ve been loved
all your life. He needs to learn to be loved.

The beagle looked up, raising her nose into the
air, trying to make it seem like she’d just caught
a scent. It was really an idea. She had an idea
about Henry.

Time passed. Henry learned to focus, not quite like
a beagle can focus, but something like that. Henry
learned to be loved. Like the beagle and the man
love each other.

Then the man said, it’s time for Henry to go. He
can have his own person now, someone who can
love just him.

“I want to help,” said the beagle. “I can tell his story.”

“He’s different. Different can be special.”

You can love different.



~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author
From "Conversations with Mary: Words of Attention and Devotion"
Winner of the Nautilus Book Award silver medal for poetry.

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The Spider
















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser


I can’t say for sure what artist brought it into this world,
eight legs and beauty on its mind. I did not fare as well
in Geometry, I’ll admit. There is a reverence, an awe for
the magic it spins and then weaves in the night, mooned
or pitch. It pains me so to encounter it first thing
on a trail, feeling it thick and sticky across my face before
my eyes adjusted to the wild. To destroy a Master’s
work: how do we do this and yet keep going?


~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author
From "Truth and Beauty: Poems on the Nature of Our Humanity"

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