Eight lost, some stillborn
Others born, still lost
Sons and daughters of Willow
One remains or so we believe
Alpha and the in-between-ones
Are all gone
Our deposit has not been sent
Hope is a currency all its very own

We are uncovering poetry
It’s what remains now
Well into her eighties
Grief grinds its way through
Those of us remaining
She deposited words
Like shiny gold coins
Into the safest of places
Poetry, her currency

Page after aging, age-less page
Reveal what Agnes’ life did not
To me

Distance and years
Wedges like a bank vault wall
Kept me at bay

She never knew that mother penned
“For Elizabeth our aspiring poet”
On the inside of Oliver’s “Evidence”

Surprise would have attended us both
That pens are passed into spheres of
The unknown

And just after we grieved for a good long while
The gone-ness grew
The no-going-back-ness
The place where the mind comes back from a long hiatus into dementia
Just to hear “I loved you”
And now
Your poetry

Omega was the last
Black English Cocker puppy
Born alive
In Oklahoma

A sign that one of nine
For us
A sign of hope
At eight weeks
Omega, should she live
(Meg for short)
Comes to live with us
Eight others rest in peace

Epiphanies born from death
Poetic embalming of her secrets
Now shared
Beauty birthed on every page
Life revealed in death

I cannot crown my favorite line of hers
(It may take a lifetime of catching up to dog-ear my favorite page)
Alpha and omega
And poetry in the in-between’s
She rests in peace
I wrestle with regret and grief

She wrestled with life
And turned it into poetry




There Is No End In Sight


Welcome to Day 29. To read all posts published in this series, click the page tab marked at the top of this home page. Thank you for joining me. Always. Grateful. e



There Is No End In Sight

It is better this way

Not knowing if I will sit with you in your suffering
For hours or days
The clock promises to keep this secret from me
From us
Guard time
Hoard it or release it in copious amounts
Along with hope

It is an act of mercy
Unlike my strong grip on you

There is no end in sight
Steadfast in love
I rub you and hold you
Shallow breathes
Breathe hot hope across the
Kitchen floor

You are slipping from me

nose to nose
paw to hand
fur to skin

The only difference is you are close to leaving me

Show me when to let you go
You always knew
Contentment in the midst of suffering
Perhaps you earned the moniker

Best friend
Of man
And woman

Please stay and love us a little
Longer, while
There is no end in sight





sunflower for pikmonkey

A Dog Named Grey: A Love Story With Fur


A Dog Named Grey: A Love Story With Fur

When you stay on the lookout for love in life
You begin to see shades of love show up
Everyday everywhere’s
Dance on the horizon

Hoisted up on the crow’s nest
Three-hundred and sixty five degrees
Of love on the line
Sail into view in the folds of skin, flesh and fur

Wrapped in a  lean package
Of muscle and sinew
Scars and heart
These eyes of a light gray soul and a rugged man

Tell a love story
Fragile and strong, a paradox
File the sharp edges
Of a jaded heart to see

You can take measurements of
Love’s capacity
In many ways
I know the heart of the man

Mission work called us to go
A thousand miles
You can measure a man’s
Character and heart in service

Sacred everyday acts
Simply tell a  life story of loving
Best of all, so
Watch a man love his dog

The one who father’s not a child
But loves the furry child deep and wide
And stewards well the heart
Of one whose silhouette is shades of gray.

Then soak in every minute detail of the care
Invested in the one
Best friend of this man
Perfect specimen of man’s best friend.

Love explodes in the hearts of those
Whose love goes places
It is welcome
Friendships and the lives of men.

Poured out fully into
Charity and love
Tending the hearts of the church’s children
The community’s poor in need of a leg up

And into the life of a dog named Grey.

Walking The Dogs: a lesson in faith

into every life a little rain
a fave of the rain leaves and flowers

They lead me down a wet dirt road
Of wonder
And I do
There was a break in the rain
After every cadence and rhythmic crazy percussion sound
Beat down hard in torrents for
A never ending time to get out the gopher wood
Sort of day
No a season, a long one
Where the rain is external internal incessant

And they lead me down the wet dirt road
The one with spilled smells of this won’t last forever
And we dodge puddles and look for damp hope
That this washed away the pitiful
Lord lead me not into a place of pity

Canines have a way of sniffing out the best spots
And pulling hard when you are dragged down in more than pluff mud

The raindrops are heavy on the leaves
And no rainbow has broken out it’s colorful
Hallelujah chorus
Just because you cannot see
Does not mean it is not there

The yellow lab finds glory all along the wet dirt road of wonder
I should have half his faith

The break in the symphony of heavenly wet
And we go spilling back out into the world
These dry bones
Should have known
It wouldn’t last forever.

It never does.
And there are smells and sights and sound on the wet dirt road
They won’t wait around forever
Joy doesn’t have an expiration date but today’s joy is
Today’s joy

Just ask the old yellow lab
Who’s on borrowed time

It’s time to walk in the rain.