Friends, some light fare to bring in the new week…
Every blade of grass, an exquisite story
Of the day’s happenings
The invisible jagged lines
Of another’s path
Sounds inaudible to my human (and aging) ears
Cause for cocked head and raised paw
If I could see half or even a quarter
Of what she smells
If I could smell a fraction of what she hears
Would my life be that much more holy
Or that much more distracting?