Sally the Seal
Introduction
It was April Fool’s day and the cruel joke
was eight inches of slush when we awoke.
Going to the psychic event was quite an adventure
to an old city church now dubbed a spiritual center.
In the basement, below the psychic readings
were hand-made crafts by local artisans.
After visiting a friend who created art from moss,
I ventured to the felt witch-hats on the table across.
I broke the ice by saying how my son and daughter-in-law should be there
nothing they’d like more than eying medieval hats to wear.
Grace laughed and told of bygone renaissance fairs
when she camped out while selling bewitching wares.
Next to the pointy hats were stuffed creations.
Was this a dog?
Before I could ask, she said “hedgehog”.
She was talking up the hedgehogs, each with unique features
Then I saw a lone gray seal amongst the plush creatures.
I picked the seal up; it had such soft fur.
Could be loved by future grand baby, that's for sure.
My wife joined us at the table
and after that, there was no more talk of hedgehogs.
The seal was packed into a handmade fabric bag.
Its’ head was sticking out and everyone
got a kick out the cute face and whiskers.
After chatting with our friends for a while,
it came time to leave the old church basement.
It was a classic gathering space.
Generations of weddings, funerals, pot-lucks.
Nice to see survivors like this being put to good use.
I cherish the moment as we set out with Sally.
Sally, our Local Seal
Seals are sleek and efficient at what they do,
and we’re lucky to have this one in our zoo.
The thick velour skin is nicely sewn.
with pretty glass eyes, shiny brown.
And, in the spot where a tag would have showed
is the mark of the last seam to be sewed.
They give the impression of a small scar;
the stitches are that of an expert doctor.
Sally smells nice and free of mold;
she's never suffocated in a cargo hold.
This seal has no obnoxious label of indication
of origin from an oppressive nation.
No sweat from the brow of a young loving mother
who in factory light sees her dreams smother.
Sally carries none of that baggage.
This seal is real!
She’s as real as Grace, with her table of felt.
The connection is real too, a connection heartfelt.
I hold Sally to my chest and pet the cloth skin,
she’s going to fit in just fine in this poetic den.
