Rufus and I walk through the morning fog looking for
God can’t see me or She would have said something
Divine is his spirit and light are his paw-steps back home
Chorus:
Holy, holy, holy is he
Happy, happy is me
Wild blackberries dot the bounds of the trail he runs
Pass them in favor of grass and the leaves and the
Sticks I collect, anticipating future play
Round and round, galloping this way and that a way
Chasing the birds, he’s chasing the sunshine
Casts a blue shadow calling it quits for night
- Rufus and I prefer to walk/run/adventure out by the old golf-course of City Park in New Orleans. There are several lakes, dozens of birds, turtles, and even snakes.
- The line “Holy, Holy, Holy” is borrowed from one of the holiest of Jewish prayers, the Kedusha.
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