"We who choose to surround ourselves with lives even more temporary
than our own live within a fragile circle, easily and often breached.
Unable to accept its awful gaps, we still would live no other way.
We cherish memory as the only certain immortality,
never fully understanding the necessary plan."
To my hound....
We have a secret, you and I that no one else shall know,
for who but I can see you lie each night in fire glow?
And who but I can reach my hand before we go to bed
and feel the living warmth of you and touch your scruffy head?
And only I walk woodland paths and see ahead of me,
your great form racing with the wind so young again, and free.
And only I can see you swim in every brook I pass.
and when I call, no one but I can see the bending grass.
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