Mahaffey the Poet

Wayne Mahaffey operates his eponymous good-beer pub in the Canton neighborhood of Baltimore, Maryland. His weekly pub emails read like free verse poems. Here's his most recent opus minor.

Was walking to work through the park in the gentle mist yesterday and noted 1 jogger and 1 squirrel. I wondered if this was more than coincidental that there was exactly one of each when normally there is a plethora of both.

I thought: Is it possible that the sole representative of their kind was out there for the same reason? If so, were they the Go-Getters: The ones that do what they think is important no matter what the conditions. Or are they the Slackers: Those that have watched the others do their thing for so long and now have to make up for lost time even in inclement weather? Or are they simply the Frolickers: Those that just want to be a part of nature and enjoy the gift of rain?

Either way, it's quite humbling to ponder: That the lowly Rodent and the great Human could be responding to the same cosmic incentive plan. There's a time for everyone if they only learn that the twisting kaleidoscope moves us all in turn.



And where did I, the lone Stroller, fit into the equation? I didn't, as I'm reasonably certain that the squirrel and the jogger didn't have a few too many cocktails the night before and their good buddy said "Get the f$%@ out of your truck, you're not driving anywhere, which in turn left them without a vehicle so they had to walk to work in the rain. They're always having a good time down on the bayou.

Those delta women think the world of me.