Dog

Dog.jpg

There is something holy
about the three of us
here in bed together,
a clouded sky at
snow’s first settling.

When you came to us
we were only two,
you made three,
a sacred number.

As you press against me
your gentle breathing
silky coat
a comfort to my day,
I am guarded from
that which diminishes
that which matters less.

A ternary,
we sleep.
Woman, man, and dog.

Prodigal, the aftermath

tree

Thunder came
with lightening flash
to remind me there is more,
always more to remember

And rain consoled the
pain of day

And Moon appeared
as rain was almost complete

With sky still shrouded, how could
she shine with such courage,
be so bold in the dissembled
sky when blood ran so freely
and tears flowed

It is Light we must allow
to bloom, even as grey cloud billow
and thunder storm preside

Light we carry
born to this dream

It is Light,
the prodigal Love of All
that heals