In My Good Death
by Dalia Shevin, for David Shevin in loving memory

I will find myself waist deep in high summer grass. The humming
shock of the golden light. And I will hear them before I see
them and know right away who is bounding across the field to meet
me. All my good dogs will come then, their wet noses
bumping against my palms, their hot panting, their rough faithful
tongues. Their eyes young and shiny again. The wiry scruff of
their fur, the unspeakable softness of their bellies, their velvet ears
against my cheeks. I will bend to them, my face covered with
their kisses, my hands full of them. In the grass I will let them knock
me down

Marybeth Holleman, Anchorage AK

*submitted to pelagicpoetry on yahoogroups

Ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack, a crack in everything

That’s how the light gets in.

– Leonard Cohen, “Anthem”

Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does.

– William James

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