Saturday Night

[nightdog_barks]

Here's a W.S. Merwin poem from the May 16th issue of The New Yorker.



Turning

Going too fast for myself I missed
more than I think I can remember

almost everything it seems sometimes
and yet there are chances that come back

that I did not notice when they stood
where I could have reached out and touched them

this morning the black shepherd dog
still young looking up and saying

Are you ready this time


~ W.S. Merwin

Comments

[blackmare]

In other words, forget smelling the roses. Stop and pet the Chango.

[takes_a_fairy]

Heh! What Mare said. :)

[damigella]

Was this really a poem about dogs? Because it reminded me of a recent meeting with an old friend, and the sadness in his eyes when he said "I'm just sad we never shared a slice of life together. It wouldn't have worked, but I wish we had tried."

Some chances do not come back; he would be ready this time, but it's too late.