poem

I was touched by this poem found in John Fox's book Poetic Medicine:


The Spirit Of The Black Dog


She is the black sky that shows off all her stars at night
when morning comes she goes down with the moon.
She is the black spirit flying south with the wild black geese.
She hides from the weird four-wheeled creatures.
One day one of the four-wheeled creatures came.
There.
She the black dog in the weird gray path.
When the creature is gone, she lying, the black dog, dead.
But only the dog was dead.
Not the wild great powerful spirit.
Her spirit is still with us forever.
Every morning she still goes down with the moon.
Every night she still shines.


- Megan Schulz, eight years old


I aspire to write as well as Megan someday.