Shadows Walk



It’s like Jack Nicholson said to Helen Hunt in As Good As It Gets.

“You make me want to be a better person.”

I can never thank you enough, dear friend.




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Perro Linda


The finest gift I ever received

Did not come from a store.

It wasn’t a thing I’d “always wanted”.

Or replacement for that which I’d had before.


It came to me without wrappings.

No boxes or bags, no ribbon or bow.

Where something never existed before,

It started small and continued to grow.


Given without ceremony or occasion,

No holiday or celebration of birth.

No commencement or wedding.

No brand names to declare its worth.


It was not given lightly.

No gag gift or last-minute buy.

Nor was it sized precisely to fit,

In fact it is as big as the sky.


The giver is now departed,

Though his gift remains intact.

It perseveres from beyond the grave.

One must not overlook this fact.


It enriches my life daily,

Even to this day.

Though given many years ago,

It never fades away.


It was your gift of love and kinship,

Stretched across so many years,

From the truest friend I will ever know,

Whose loyal spirit now dries my tears.



  • Paz
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Lilies of The Field



Remember these Tiger Lilies,

This thick underbrush,

This hazy morning.

This Pinnacle Day.





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Heavenly Hill


Embrace silence.

Not the sorrow born of isolation,

But the 

Serenity born of






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Summer Morning


Haven’t you learned this already?

Those things are not real.

The trees, the rain, this trail, me.

These are real.

Ditch that other stuff.



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Waiting Game



I watched you push your painted, half-filled heart up the hill,

Place it on a staff and wave it high

For all to see.


I saw you stumble when tragedy rent your days

Like sails in the hurricane,

How your knees fell atop your emblazoned flag

And crushed it like a grape.


I felt the pain you carried like a rucksack lashed to your chest.

Saw the way you lifted it in front of your eyes until 

You could no longer see the path.


I waited patiently, years perhaps if I knew of time.

Until finally you noticed me.

Watching, feeling, seeing, waiting.


Until  you found a place to set down your pack

Long enough for us to climb this hill,




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The Lost Time

Sassy June In The Snow


It makes me want to cry, thinking of her, all those years, born and growing in the wrong place.

How could we have known?

As we walked our trails in sun and wind, rain and snow, light and dark. As we shared canned ham and chili dogs and Slim Jims.

As we rode where we pleased, the window open, and you not poking your nose out through it as dogs are supposed to do.

To think she languished in unhappiness as we arrived at the top of Nishan Hill and all the world was beautiful and perfect. Even the thorns that prick us are perfect elements in this perfect world. We drip perfect blood.

The hugs and kisses and “My beautiful boy!” Freedom to come and go and chase rabbits or sleep in a mound of Autumn’s dried leaves.

Where was she as we navigated a thousand walks, two thousand days, four thousand meals, eight trips to the vet? Seventeen stitches and that stupid plastic lampshade and you unable to walk after the vestibular syndrome.

As we both slowed.

Miles and getting there no longer the goal, nor metered and measured allotted times. Living in the right now always and growing closer than even we knew was possible.

It hurts to think of her lonely, scared, or cowering, or treated in any way less than a perfect gift from our Cosmos.

I wonder now if she ever remembers. A family, and children, to which she was bonded no matter the circumstances. I wonder if she thinks of now. I’m hoping now is filled with love and joy and comfort, and let’s leave it at that.

And I wonder if she ever thinks… “All those years.”



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