A Present, sent from my dad to me yesterday...I like it

If I had a yellow dog, I’d live in the country,
I’d have an Appaloosa I’d ride on Sundays.
I’d call the dog Buttercup, the horse Champ.

I’d plant honeysuckle and lilac on the right bank
where graze the cotton ball sheep bleating low
by the pond with the two ducks who’d mate
for life, Bessie and Gussy, round and round

lapping their blue-sky circumference, content.
I’d carry my basket to market on Saturday,
fennel and sorrel and honey from the comb

then back home to my stone and ivy bungalow.
Fire-side, spine-to-spine, Herbert and Yeats,
letters I’d pen with quill and gooseberry ink
I made myself in rinsed out bottles shining

like quartz by the window desk by morning
light. Summer I’d simmer my jams of berry
I grew, winter I’d wait for the ice and wind

to subdue, by autumn the oranges and umbers
I’d succumb to their crisp and crackling crunch
underfoot, but Spring’s green glad I’d like best.
Before May Day, all the budding most bright,

and I’d never be lonely, never pick any fights. Never
wish I was anywhere other than where I was home.
If only I had a yellow dog, I’d live in the country alone.

Melanie Faith