OK, I want to read a poem for our other wolf, Happy Wolf.
Happy is Arctic Wolf and Malamute.
And he weighs 115 pounds, and he's
the gentlest-- yeah, 115 pounds, that big.
He's the gentlest, sweetest dog, but I live in Colorado
and there's a lot of snow.
And I wrote this poem after walking out in the snow
during a full moon.
And it was very ghostly and beautiful.
Everything is so white there when the snow falls.
Everything turns white, and I mean such white.
And I was trying to capture that white with this poem.
"Walking in snow on a full Moon Knight for Happy--
that's his name-- white crunch of sub-zero white moon spilling
the bowl of ewe's milk Celts drink
to celebrate this ewe's moon halfway between solstice
and equinox.
White wolf lopes ahead between white tire tracks
drifted and nearly lost.
In profile, his head twice the size of mine.
White silence of the husband, brooding over white piano keys,
frozen between cords of loneliness
for the boy scoring his heart.
White paper waiting for words to skate
from the mind's revolving rink.
White smell of Crisco of white lard bubbling around eggs
of love, love, love with no red roses strapped to their burning
thighs.
White stars blink, white Saturn raises the moon
white windless as frost or the philosophy of ice
rhyming the poet's cup.
The senses are where ideas die grateful as white moths
into a winter sunset.
White crunch of wolf paws out leaping the deer trail.
White wolf teeth take my whole hand,
and for now, do not bite down."