No “happy hunting grounds”
for my dog!
All the dogs of my life
are part of me,
as I am part of God.
Someday we will understand
each other exquisitely!

Marmalade is a lynx, a leopard,
a lion, remembering the wild.

She sits at the screen door,
yearning to go; to forage,
to hunt and collect the smells
of the alley.

She’s been there – she knows !

But there’s traffic and rainstorms,
dogs and mean boys. It’s not safe for her.
No one to feed her – no one
to purr for.

But she’s addicted.

This graceful creature, long-limbed as a deer,
who loves me with his eyes, can’t understand
that this five-digit thing is called a hand
that finds that special place behind his ear;
nor can he know that I can see and fear
the dangers in his world; or how I’ve planned
to make sure he has food. He’ll only stand
and nuzzle at the god he knows is here.

So must I love what I can never name,
and only with my faulty vision see.
The world, proof of the Creator’s art,
must for the moment be enough. The same
unquestioning, adoring stance must be
my own till I can step beyond my heart.