Stories in Time
Now through the white orchard my little dogromps, breaking the new snowwith wild feet.Running here running there, excited,hardly able to, stop, he leaps, he spinsuntil the white snow is written uponin large, exuberant letters,a long sentence, expressingthe pleasures of the body in this world.Oh, I could not have said it bettermyself.— Mary Oliver, The Storm…