I Tell You This To Break Your

Around Me The Trees Stir In Their Leaves And Call Out, Stay Awhile.

Because Of The Dog’s Joyfulness, Our Own Is Increased. It Is No Small Gift.

Belief Isn't Always Easy. But This Much I Have Learned--- If Not Enough Else--- To Live With My Eyes Open.

For Poems Are Not Words, After All, But Fires For The Cold, Ropes Let Down To The Lost, Something As Necessary As Bread In The Pockets Of The Hungry.

He Is Exactly The Poem I Wanted To Write.