The Bowl (a poem)

Just outside the gate

Where our backyard

Morphs into “open space”

I place

 A bowl of water

For parched animals

And

Every day

Or two

I clean it

And refill it

While wondering

What drinks from it.

Birds?

Squirrels?

Rabbits?

Coyotes?

The bobcat I’ve only seen twice?

Doesn’t matter

Something — hopefully some things

Are benefitting

From my over-the-top

Empathy for creatures

Who suffer

Because of

The nature of the universe —

Survival of the fittest

Dog eat dog

Thirst

Caused by

Drought

Caused by

Climate change

Leaving animals

That shouldn’t

Depend on us

Depending on us

Until there is

No more us

No more me

What will they do then?

If they survive

Thrive?