A Hundred Gourds 5:2 March 2016

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Donna Buck – USA


After he tells me it's over, I go underground; settle in for the long haul. I take my lesson from my Labrador.

Rozzie went her own way. Found her favorite place in the garden, burrowed herself in molten leaves under a shaded shrub. There in that damp place she rested, quiet. Gentled herself, bothering no one. She never made a sound until near the end. And then the low hum: her conquering spirit letting go.

bare sycamores
the whistling call
of a chickadee—
longing for mother

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