For a Friday Morning {a poem}

Pretty usual for a Friday morning --
up with the baby dog who's not really a baby
anymore but she's our baby, the four-legged
furry one who snores loudly and farts plenty.

We thought we might have a baby-baby,
but the easy way to say this is
life happened
or
it wasn't in the cards.

Funny how expressions like these
are kind of like the way people share things
and say, "THIS."

A kind of short-hand for when
there is so much more to say but doing so
would take time and effort, sifting and listening
and probably making a mess in the process
kind of like this poem
before getting to the essence of things.

Personally, I like the stories, like knowing
the why behind things, how it all really went
down or sideways and took a turn for the worst
or the best or, as is usually the case, simply
some unexpected direction neither east nor west
but somewhere in the middle, where
yes, life happens,

where yes, the mornings of the week come
one after another, and with each awakening
you remember to give thanks for what you know
could be taken away as quickly
as it was given to you, unearned,
for safekeeping.