Letter from St. Augustine #1

Letter from St. Augustine #1

The wolf at the door is away.
He sends warmth
through his binoculars.
Absorbing the heat,
you open the door.
An airplane flies overhead.
You close your eyes at the roar.
Pictures of elephants, Victorian ladies
and Napoleon appear.
Suddenly, Confederate soldiers
are sharing your space.

The weather turns cooler.
You close the door and pick up your pen.
Little Red Riding Hood,
you've lost your way.
Then you see that
your cat left a red dot on a white chair.
You become incensed.
Here! Here! You say.

The car appears, teasing
and tantalizing you as though to a game.
Cheetah in zoo, you say
as you walk from the Cheshire grin
that will not go away.

You think of Flannery O'Connor
and her peacocks.
Later, you leaf through a magazine
and a peacock appears on the page.
You can't believe it.
It is an advertisement for cross stitch.
You put the picture aside.

You stare, instead, at a postcard of Ganesh.
It is composed of colors and swirls --
oranges and blues --
Oh, Great Remover of Obstacles,
you pray, Hear me out.
Move me through
to the Serengeti
where the great felines appear.
Bring me to India,
Benares, Bombay,
Pondicherry.

And to you, then, my friend,
I give thanks.
I am still, and you are still here.
May the wolf at the door stay away.