Walking in the woods with our dogs...

Late in the afternoon sun, we walked through the woods with our dogs.  The browns were like a sepia rainbow - every shade imaginable - and I was struck silent.  Yes, the new puppy must learn how to walk on a leash (and after 20 minutes she became an unintentional pain in the ass.) Yes, tomorrow the rain will come and wash away the breadth of today's beautiful browns.  And yes, when we got home we found 12 brown dog ticks in our clothes and socks (prompting a flurry of showers, body checks and trips to the drug store.)

Still, it was worth it - the browns were alive - and I needed to see them dancing.  Brown is my favorite color.

Last week, after coming back from my sister's memorial service, I got word that my precious brother had had a seizure and crashed his car into a wall in San Francisco.  He is the family poet and in his understated way eventually let us know that he had been taken to the ER and will see a neurologist on Wednesday.  We have a tendency in our family to hide both the magnitude and challenge in our fears and joys, yes? But the news refused to be understated to me - I keened and shook - gasping like one possessed, "I'm not ready to lose my brother, too." 

For now I wait for word from the West Coast... andd walk in the woods when the sun is most warm.  For some reason this poem by Robert Bly alled "People Like Us" won't let me go.

There are more people like us.  All over the world
There are confused people, who can't remember
The name of their dog when they wake up, and
   people
Who love God but can't remember where

He was when they went to sleep.  It's
All right.  The world cleanses itself this way.
A wrong number occurs to you in the middle
Of the night, you dial it, it rings just in time

To save the house.  And the second-story man
Gets the wrong address, where the insomniac lives,
And he's lonely, and they talk, and the thief
Goes back to college.  Even in graduate shcool,

You can wander into the wrong classroom,
And hear great poems lovingly spoken
By the wrong professor.  And you find your soul,
And greatness has a defender, and even in death
   you're safe.