I could write about the tiny Arabian horse, her pale matted coat grown to maximum for the winter, nature knowing what her children need toward the end of life - once luster and beauty as only youth can confer - later, stripped back to essentials, hip bones protruding over swayed back, the preciousness of her fragile locomotion, the gentle spirit;

Then there's the big white Lab, black eyes full of fathomless joy at our arrival, departure, the smallest things as perhaps only dogs appreciate in that canine way, his considerable bulk leaned against my body as I come closer, claiming me before his jouncy friend and companion has the chance;

The world lost both within two days of late, and I am left to ponder the transience of life on this planet, how what seems unfair is simply what is, the twisted gnarly trunk of the cedar, twinned to the pine in youth, never able to break free and take a form more pleasing, the coupling of two cutting life short for both, neither able to fully flourish; and how are we so different? Where we choose to invest our energy, how we support others with or without their appreciation, leaning into the wind or onto one another for support, gazing at the landscape around us with wondering eyes, taking for granted our singular human capacity to notice and imprint, categorizing each encounter with emotional hues, pleasing or not, while these unconditionally loving four leggeds greet us afresh and anew, as if we have not cast a single black mark on this wide, wide world.