Flying Raccoon-Angel Dog

P1850991.jpg

 

It’s crazy how much I love this dog:

she’s silver strands if I am a crow

if a pirate, she’s my mountain of gold

by sea at night she’s the northern star

and my sun & moon & light near & far

 

(Joya picks up almost anything and turns it into a toy that she flips in the air, catches, chases, since everything is animate and joyful play in her world.)

wpc

Independence Reenvisioned

fullsizeoutput_a2

“America” by Claude McKay, 1921

Although she feeds me bread of bitterness,
And sinks into my throat her tiger’s tooth,
Stealing my breath of life, I will confess
I love this cultured hell that tests my youth.
Her vigor flows like tides into my blood,
Giving me strength erect against her hate,
Her bigness sweeps my being like a flood.
Yet, as a rebel fronts a king in state,
I stand within her walls with not a shred
Of terror, malice, not a word of jeer.
Darkly I gaze into the days ahead,
And see her might and granite wonders there,
Beneath the touch of Time’s unerring hand,
Like priceless treasures sinking in the sand.

Mackey

Claude McKay was born in Jamaica in 1889.

from ShenandoahLiterary.org

wpc

Poems, Prose, Photos & the Art of Being Human