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

        myself.

--Mary Oliver

[Trekker's first snow,  3.5 months]