...quiet, about a lot of things...

Friday, December 07, 2007

A Poem

At last a poem. Not much of one...but something on this page.
The snow is coming. The white storm. The peaceful cold. I will know I am alive. My breath will hang in the air.


When you give a dog a bone,
at first he will love you.
He may dance on cue,sit or

spin. You will be magic. But,
the time will come. It must.
When you give that dog his bone,

he will seem changed. As if
suddenly he knows,you could have
given him meat, instead.

wlf 9:54


posted by wendy at 9:53 AM


I was coming over to say, "there, there, the words will come again..."...and this !!!! brilliant piece is here.

I love it. The known phrase, actions we all know from our dogs, and the killer last half. What a turn, and so true.

12/7/07, 10:22 AM  

I really do just love this.

12/7/07, 2:59 PM  

That sense of being desired and consumed and making someone happy--so alluring at first, so deadly in the end.

12/9/07, 11:18 AM  

That is what they call 'a sense of belonging' :)

12/10/07, 8:09 AM  

WOW! Brilliant this....right to the heart of everything, really. Way to go, Wendy.

12/12/07, 1:37 PM  

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