Miles lies head in my lap
gazing up at me
love beaming from his eyes
into mine beaming love
back into his lusciously
lolling here of a morning
still and heavy
completely given over to
the luxury of loving and
being loved as only a
gentle-souled dog can do.
Shall we mightn’t we risk
everything in this one short
life we have here right here
right now? Mustn’t we
love wholly this perfectly imperfect
world those flawed wandering
souls that grand old tree that
tiny finch the very songs of All?
Must’t we love All
in the fiercest possible way
give our whole tender hearts gladly
wrapped triumphant in knowing
that this risk this love this tearing
open to reveal a beating heart to
give All while we can in this
brief slip of time is the grandest
most best onliest chance we will
ever have to be real human beings?
If you love a one
oh how lucky for
the thing of loving
is itself a wonder
a miracle
God.
If you love a thing love it madly.
Love it like a dog loves his toy.
Carry it in and out the door
bring it to the rug and rest your
head upon it while you nap
snatch it from the jaws of others
shake and toss it give it
a thrill ride now and then
continue to want and love it
long after its ears arms legs
have fallen off long after
you’ve pulled out its squeaker
and all of its stuffing even
when it is nothing more
than a rag, love it.
Love it love it love it.
And then love it more.