We neighbor ladies were chatting…

Sitting by the river,

Watching the handsome boatman paddle by

When the mom of the two year old

Wandered up, Haven on her hip

And told us the inside story, a preamble

About the Big White Dog death.

She said that she’d noticed the week before

That he was not himself

Sort of pulled back in

And she had felt a readiness in him

To go on, his service complete.

The misjudged rattlesnake was the vehicle

The Gift, the Liberation , the Way

The White Dog’s Spark

Went Home.