San Gabriel Valley Poetry Quarterly

SEVEN DHAR
One Morning in Mei

I wake with woodcutting on my mind

Bury my adze with delight

But morning comes too soon

And I retire to such time

When I can call out, Timber!

Warm in the morning light

Time grows thin, hatchet in hand,

I seek the woods by Jungle Thi

Where Tygress purrs and her fur aligns

Pounces the path and wood alights

Scratching post territory defines

Spray and spray such scent,

Maul the bone, lick feline accent:

"Me came many a weary way

Wandering wilderness where to allay

Gnawing of trembling tum'

My bloat the rumble of bubbling gum

Here I'll mine soft ivory, the licking kind

Its fine marrow warm pearly white

So wending through the forest maze

Until on woodcutter I set my gaze"

Soon goes before some wild cat

How my morning turns a harrowing tale

Two span between her padded track

And I'm still here the morrow to sail