Poetry is an animating force. It comes alive when the poet magically inscribes a wave and thereby creates a new thing, when the text immobilizes it, when the individual poem becomes part of the great sea, when the bottle washes ashore and the wanderer happens upon it, when the reader experiences its inexhaustible depths. . . .

~ Edward Hirsch

The first thing I notice out the window this morning–clouds. Not one cloud sheet massively graying everything. Puffy, interesting, many shaped and shades of cloud in a light sky. I can’t wait to go out. But I want to tweak my riptide poem. Charlie is maniac, revved up, impatient. He wants to go out. Finally, I’m satisfied. I’m ready. Suzi doesn’t want to come. We go out into a warmer morning, unpressured, we take our time. Then Frank calls and tells me, “Guess who I found outdoors this morning?” Weird. I wonder if it’s Charlie? Somehow he got out? No, sadly, it was Suzi. He found her circling his car when he left early for his meeting. He assumed someone else had just let her out. She was so happy to see him! He realized she was cold and damp and hungry and took her right in. She spent the night outdoors. I was horrified. How could this be? Poor Suzi! Then I remembered, arriving home, tired, not paying close attention. I opened the door to let Charlie in, and she went out. I assumed my son would let her in. The dogs are let in and out all day long. They come to the doors where we’re sitting or standing, they get let back in. Charlie scratches the screens or barks and doesn’t stop until he gets in. But Suzi just stands outside waiting to be noticed. She’s never spent the night outdoors. I remembered that Land had gone upstairs. He assumed Suzi was safe indoors. It was my fault. Forgetting is an act of remembering. I vow to pay more attention, be more conscious of Suzi. I keep walking, and I pass an old piece of birch bark by the side of the trail, I’ve passed it before. Today, I kneel and take a closer look. I take some shots. And then I realize it’s shaped like a beautiful wave. Yes, waves are on my mind and heart and in my poem. I also realize I’m thinking of this iconic wave, “The Great Wave off Kanagawa.” And that’s what I saw, why I was drawn to the picture. Tonight, I gave Charlie a half a cookie at bedtime, he’s getting thick. Suzi got a whole cookie. And I did not let her out. And I watched her climb the stairs on her way to bed.