Vespers II

By Joseph Hesch

Before dusk, feathered greyfriars chirp vespers,

while a woodpecker drills for dinner in the

pines behind the neatly furrowed,

crops of red brick.

Jingling wind chimes announce the huffing

passage of a Jack Russell terrier.

Madly circling his owner, he's a rogue satellite

straining against the gravitational pull of his leash,

lest he spin off into the unknown,

the lengthening shadows and benign dangers

of this suburban galaxy.

Each afternoon he and his rotund master planet

course around the development,

each cyclical foray another chance

to slip the similitude

of the little fellow’s days.

I feel the strain against the leash, too, 

always hoping to break from just a little

of the gravity that holds me captive to a life

made of circles, cycles and birdsong reminders

that tomorrow will be one more transit

toward a hoped-for someday when I don’t

have to carry so many worlds on my shoulders.

Let's take the idea presented in the shadorma "Vespers," and expand on that theme.