Second, I love this poem, by Gwynn O'Gara, found in my 2014 Women Artists Datebook.
Rhythm
Late afternoon the dog comes to my study
and rubs her softness against me.
Now, say her eyes.
Even the patient know urgency,
the dreamy wake to appetite.
Among the trees she greets old friends,
exults in the warmth of a new hand.
At home I fill her bowl.
So the heart finds where we hide
among strangers or preoccupations
and tells us it is time.
Feed what is hungry.
Air what is stale.
Pick up pen or phone
and pronounce the words
practiced so long in silence.
Or lie down in the sun with the grass.
Neither bless nor curse,
simply change.
Gwynn O'Gara