The Coyote Clan
Faeries in the autumn


I'm with Tilly. This made for a magical start to the week, think I may play the album in the classroom today.

Dog, Dream, Coming Home

The dog drifts to sleep, a dark cloud on the rug.
It is midnight. He dreams me home,
a bowl of water, a biscuit, that connection flowing,
my hand on his head, not master, not slave,
but companions. A noise wakens him,
he looks up muzzled by sleep.
I say his name, her name, their names,
and haltingly remember, they are long gone,
felled in the garden by age, hit by a car
speeding to its own destiny, savaged
by a bear, my three dogs on the empty rug,
dreaming me home.

©2012 by Jane Yolen All rights reserved

Gorgeous. And heart-breaking.

I can so relate to this one. My own dog is old now and I treasure every month I still have with him.

I love this song and video. And photograph. And poem. Thank you. A good way to start the week.

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