Sunday, August 31, 2008

Saturday, August 30, 2008

Friday, August 29, 2008

Ode to a dog




You who would kill a dog
Companion to the elderly
Protector of the strollered child
Guardian of an urban household
Defender should an intruder dare
Champion of a single woman
And solace of a single man
Running pal of autumn mornings
Warm comfort on a winter night
Playful dancer in spring sunrise
Happy swimmer cooling summer
heat
Accepting eyes in troubled times
Most guileless and truest of
friends
You who would kill
A dog
You who would kill
Love
Perhaps you, more than anyone,
Need a dog.







Sunday, August 24, 2008

Home is the sailor...

Home is the sailor, home from the sea:
Her far-borne canvas furled
The ship pours shining on the quay
The plunder of the world.

Home is the hunter from the hill:
Fast in the boundless snare
All flesh lies taken at his will
And every fowl of air.

'Tis evening on the moorland free,
The starlit wave is still:
Home is the sailor from the sea,
The hunter from the hill.

Robert Louis Stevenson