Risky Business
Friday Mailbag

Poetry Speaks

Poetry speaks to me often.

But sometimes, it screams.

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The Storm (Bear)

Now through the white orchard my little dog

    romps, breaking the new snow

    with wild feet.

Running here running there, excited,

    hardly able to stop, he leaps, he spins

until the white snow is written upon

    in large, exuberant letters,

a long sentence, expressing 

    the pleasures of the body in this world.


Oh, I could not have said it better


                --- Mary Oliver, Dog Songs