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
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.