Let me ask you this,
‘how would it be if we kissed…nose to muzzle, muzzle to this?’
With the onslaught of winter wind from the trees would it bring me to inspiration from bend-ed knee.
I clasp upon what you have given me…snowy wool, star-like gaze, wandering that cannot be betrayed.
Two feet to four paws, I have always been in awe.
These stages of pronounced reverence have given to the inspiration that I need.
Mile upon, as far as the crow flies, mile, there has only been deliverence from what we are forced to see.
I could walk with you for a distance of markers, blank and unforgiven, in the wilderness.
How basic? To live, to live, to live, with that which pardons the manner in which we give.