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Best Friends Animal Society
5001 Angel Canyon Road
Kanab, UT 84741
A Walk In The N.Y. Botanical Gardens With Gunnilla
We enter the gate, my dog and I
Eager for release?
hers a physical release
mine a mental release
We walk a little way and her freedom
though eminent, comes too slow
She pulls away from me
She dances, she leaps, she licks my hand
She runs around me almost trapping me in her leash
At last, she is free and she dashed forward
Exhilarated, she runs at a bird who screams at her
Unabashed and alert, her eyes dart left and right
Looking for a scurrying leaf, a twig, a squirrel, a chipmunk,
Anything at all, just let it move so she can chase it
With her release to run, I am released also
I am free to stop running, to pause
to contemplate my surroundings
As we entered the park, we left the
noise of the cars and trucks
Inside there is noise, but what a difference
The melodic chirp and songs of birds
The honking of wild ducks, the
breeze blowing the boughs
of the barren trees
It's late Winter, and my feet lead me
to the pond where fleetingly
There is a raccoon, or is it a muskrat?
Later, I am led to the memorial of
Elizabeth Estes
A semi circular stone bench on the crest
of a hill
My bills forgotten, my unfinished chores erased
Family and job for the moment do not exist
I climb the sloping steps, slowly I read
her name and turn and sit
And I see the same sights that perhaps
she saw and loved
As far as the eye can see, a lovely space
Straight down through the trees, the
meadow still lush with green
Waiting patiently for the fields of yellow
daffodils still asleep underground
On the left and right, bare branched
trees await the pink and white blossoms
And spaced in-between forsythia bushes
And not visible, but still to come
tulips and iris
And an unknown tree with a wildly
exhilarating perfume
Gunnilla has returned to me, anxious
to continue, but she wants
me to be with her
I arise slowly, and think kind
thoughts of this woman whose
Generous friends erected this
lovely memorial to her
They must have loved her
What was she like?
They must have known she loved this spot
What was she like?
Gertrude McSpiritt, Hightstown, N.J.
