Midnight Bathers

 

 

By John I. Blair

When I glance out
My kitchen window
Late at night
I spy beneath a lamp
A plastic bowl.

It sits there so the birds
And other animals
Can slake their thirst
On baking
Summer noons.

But after dark
It morphs into a footbath,
A wading pool, a place
For water dancing,
Splashing, washing off,

For liquid larking
In the moonlight.
And little owls
Screech
In nearby trees,

Sad they cannot
Chance damp fun
With possums,
Toads,
Raccoons.

©2020 John I. Blair, 8/30/2020

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