~ after Mary Oliver
A light morning, on the day before an old dog’s goodbye. He knows, as do I.
He reaches out his paw, and I squeeze it. He squeezes back, his long knuckles making a reverse cup in my palm, emptying out what he has left for me to hold.
The slick mountains of love break over us.
© 2026–present Cordelia Naumann. All rights reserved.