Just standing, seeing, still.

R.H. Blyth talks of living the poetic life, in which one aspires to those moments of communion with the whole, in which one sees the nature of things and, through them, glimpse the universe. 'One flower is the Spring; a falling leaf has the whole of Autumn, of every Autumn, of the eternal, the timeless Autumn of each thing and of all things'

Attempting a poetic view, the apparent age of the dog, it's peaceful 'being'... one may see it's life from pup to this point and witness no regret or longing for past or future. There is only acceptance of the quiet, home, this moment. This view blossoms to the life of all dogs, and onwards....

the moon and flowers

forty-nine years

walking about, wasting time

issa