Heavenly melody gently playing
Tells a tale of life made precious 
By a soul we all called Marley
Filled with love and joy tenacious.

Limits now have all been lifted,
Gates and bars and curfews gone.
Effortless he shares his spirit,
Gift refreshed like endless dawn.

​

It's drawn with majesty unmatched
Against the morning sky
To greet all yearning hearts that rise
And seek the vistas high.

Each daybreak then we make our trek
Down verdant paths to beach,
And there we stand on golden sands
To see the mountain teach.

From shore to shore and then aloft
We feel the canvas soar
To paint a panorama grand
With Crystal Range allure.

The peaks that float on distant clouds
Their grandeur, mystery share.
Though deeper breaths now fill the soul,
Our smaller scale they bear.

The mountain's ancient presence lends
The air a certain feel
And primes the light with buzz and power,
The hike—its great appeal.

So every morning here we tread,
With dogs excited, too.
The vastness of the life we see
An inspiration true.

​

​A memory contributed by Princess Zoelandia, the Supreme Huntress…
(To be followed by some lines from Lord Zakwoof himself! See below.)

An Indian Paintbrush makes me smile
While trotting home the final mile;
But Rabbitbrush, ubiquitous,
Doth more to stir the painting lust,
As tufted tips stand ready made
With yellow paint or greener shade.

Though canine folk may seldom paint, 
This shrub's appeal is still not faint;
Its name evokes the hopping prey
That sit and chew for half the day.
Thus every dog with hopeful mind
Hath dreams of bunny there to find.

—Princess Zoelandia of the Woof Clan

​A memory contributed by Lord Zakwoof of Glenwoof, Gourmand and Scholar…


The natural grasses clock the age
Of seasons passing, green and beige;
The changes echo in the sage,
But lasting scent will there assuage.

Though buds be tan from life they sang, 
That sagely shrub will keep its tang
For every dog with lively fang
Who ventures brisk through scrubby land.

Its foliage near at shoulder height,
From where I tread on trails aright,
Does comfort bring in corners tight,
A verdant shawl, perfumed and light.

—Shortfellow (aka Lord Zakwoof of Glenwoof)

Duckling family, feline-led,
Shuffling down a gentle trail;
Purpose-drawn by cat ahead,
Trust and instinct to regale.

Never mind the different types;
Feathery ones both dark and light
And the furry cat with stripes
Trek together, curious sight.

Motley band, now thin then bunched,
Living stream through grass and hedge,
Makes its way on travels launched,
Pilgrimage to water's edge.

Under watchful eye of cat,
Now the ducklings sail and play.
Free to dive, explore—and yet,
Near the cat they always stay.

​

​A gentle ripple spreading wider
Belies the beaver's power;
A floating head no less deceptive
Than tip of berg much lower.
 
You may not see the stoutish body
Nor glimpse the tail so flattened;
Submerged they move with slightest hinting
At ponding works emboldened.

The pond established owes its being
To person small but awesome:
The beaver cleaver—mighty builder,
With industry most fulsome.