Molly Dreaming About Herself: what dogs dream

I used to imitate the old masters very self-consciously.  I used to think — and it was wise instinct working — that whatever the old masters did, they did for good reasons, reasons that one could only hope to understand through emulation, of walking a few miles in their shoes.  So, you find artists like Rubens and Ingres who draw figures over top other figures, and I thought to myself: “got to try that.”

I didn’t have a model handy.  But I had a dog.  So I drew one Molly sleeping over top another Molly sleeping.  My dog was happy to oblige my artistic requirements by fidgeting around in her sleep.

Now with self-generated art lessons receeding into the background, she looks like two companionable dogs together, or one dog perhaps dreaming dog dreams.  Molly was such a smart and lively canine, I’ve no doubt that her dreams were indeed rich with Molly memories of her many Molly adventures.

Now only one question remains “which dog is the dreamer and which one the dream?”

Night Moon’s Gleam

Night moon’s gleam lit the yard, glowed the house, shook the trees.  Against inky darkness golden, comforting windows warmed the night with fire-fly-like delight.

Mom and Dad inside, someone always there to call you in when it gets too dark outside. 

Night moon’s gleam lit my big night’s space, and silvery pale echo reflecting from the white house answering.  So much space, so much flight, so wide a night, so broad and endless sky.

Night moon’s gleam lit, but not so bright to extinguish distinguished firefly’s flights glowing, and then others, and hundreds of answering waves of firefly lights, wafting along bug flight-path sines and cosines.

Far away moon now from grand aged adulthood recalled, but still night moon’s gleam lit my dreams and got me back bright firefly night.