Final winter snowfall. In Zen the masters often write poems at or near their death. They often involve winter images coinciding with the “winter” of our life cycle. While I’m no Zen master I have one penned for my own demise, Carla has a copy and there is one in the center drawer of my office desk. Thankfully, I don’t have to share that one just yet. Still, for one creature I love the time is coming. The dog I’ve had since a puppy will be gone soon. He is big and fierce looking so he was named Worf in respect for the Star Trek character of size, strength, and stoic character. In his day he held his own against two coyotes who attacked him, their mistake. His looks mislead as he is a happy soul who athletically used to leap over the back wall and into the desert to fetch his ball time after time until I was tired not he. So, here is Worf’s Winter Snowfall, a death poem for a most loved creature:
“Gone as fast as Carefree desert snow”
We had snow this winter right here in Carefree Arizona, it stayed on the ground a day or so, and it lingered on the mountains much longer. I think it was sent here for Worf and I to see and to teach us to respect but not fear death. Snowfall is silent and pure. When seen as death’s metaphor snowfall is often silent and pure in a finalistic way. I may see Worf run and jump over walls and catch hundreds of balls and tear into every toy, but it won’t be on this world. I believe that all dogs go to heaven, but this does not mean I will ever make it there to see him. Or perhaps I will, if I get in he’ll be waiting for me to throw that ball, and I’ll gladly toss it for him many, many, many times. The dog in my photo isn’t Worf, but he looks a lot like that–happy and running. Worf is defined by his dog collar which says “Worf our Gentle Giant”. I’ll see you in heaven Gentle Giant…if they let me in.