These woods, full of birds,
we walked through in ice, mud, rain,
songs filling our ears.

The beavers still work
on these trees by the river —
I think of us here.

Spring winds have begun,
I keep a forest for you
of fresh bloomed lichen.

Dog with shining eyes,
smiles knowing that I love him,
he blooms with the field.

Cold fall afternoons,
ecstatic spring green mornings —
none of it was small.

Stardust to stardust,
velvet February snow,
you’re back on your trail.

You picked up their scent,
wild lily of the valley,
just out, of the earth.

In your habitat
among the wild wildflowers
deep in the meadow.

We found a carved heart
in the bark of a jack pine,
the ground, a loose web.

Made by white-tailed deer,
we walk the long river path,
see the way they see.

Sunlight in the woods,
your fur, the color of snow,
shadow, and warm earth.

Heart around your neck,
red metal with your name: MACK,
I say it today.

Just us on the path,
excitement in your portrait
about what’s ahead.

The meadow deer path
led us through soft wild carrot,
fog, clinging to it.

Snowflakes in your ears,
your warm bed ready at home,
no end to our luck.

(two months without you)

Every blade of grass
lit up for our quiet life —
happy just to be.

The days behind us,
never asking for too much,
having everything.

We’re out exploring —
how do I remember you
any other way.

Spring leaf bud casings
cover the floor of the woods,
soft under your feet.

In midwinter snow
turned blue we walked the long path
just a year ago.