The recommendation was a poem that began and ended with the same word. I thought I would begin with my dog Lady and end with her name, but I cannot say I really rule my poetry. Anyone who writes knows that you never really know how this will end. Sometimes the ends are forced, and sometimes they come; and the best often surprise me.
This is dedicated to Zen Master Wu Bong who passed away on the 17th of April.
Lady jaunts up the steps, and I follow
White bushy tail wagging
Brown patch on her rump, body white
With hair as soft as silk to my fingers,
And catch her paws at the first landing
On my blue-jeaned thigh just below the knees
We pause together, as we always pause,
My fingers stroke under her chin and on her brown forehead.
I ask, “Okay?” as if she might answer,
And wonder at the marvel of the moment,
Of love as simple as paws upon a leg,
The silent swish of a tail, and ebony eyes fixed
Upon her master who is as much her child.
Now – the moment held—the moment on the stairs
Neither before or after, my fingers graze her hair—
Give me a dog’s grace of being there.