Tuesday, July 24, 2007


July 20th was the anniversary of my leaving home, and I practically begged the Goat to come spend the weekend with me. He came, he held, he conquered.

He put up with my weeping, he took me out for a good time, we watched silly movies together... and he was there for me, every minute...

I had to go up to my mother's on Sunday night to deal with her elderly guests, having shirked my responsibilities to help keep them occupied all weekend, but all the way home my mind kept circling the incredible events of Friday and Saturday, until my heart was so full of gratitude to
the Goat I didn't know what to do.

So I left a couple of moon-calf phone messages, and the next morning wrote this:

Oh, what a weekend, oh, my love! My heart
Was at the last so very full I could
Not think, or breathe, or be, except in you.
Your gentle kindness seems to know no bounds.

That kindness, patience, tenderness impart
A peace I doubted that I ever would
Experience again. What can I do?
My sorrows and my joys make their grand rounds.

Your gift of gifts, which you showed at the start,
Is that unerring sense for what you should
Say when: that you can say that you
Feel needed, but no neediness, astounds.

A way with words is one thing—good, I guess;
Far greater is the use of words to bless.

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