ch. 6, v.10-18

Perambulation the Second
Here the salted wind has the force of a giant mastiff
Thundering across the unguarded expanse of the sea to buffet us with unfathomable growls.
We must pursue our way with dogged determination,
Our puniness finding a seam of vincibility,
In which our reward.


For here only the beauty of the poodle's ears held aloft like unto the benedictine headdress,
And through our great exertion the exultation of making our path.







Celebrate ye dogs allowed with the leaping and twisting
And the mixing of silica deep in the layers of your coat.

ch. 6, v.1-9 (journey to cape)

On this goodly cape of sand there is a seasoning upon the air--a seasoning as of the the corny triangular snack that falls too rarely to the floor of our kitchen when my companion nourishes herself in haste in the moment that suspends between her evening return and our evening perambulation.

But also on this goodly cape of sand the days unroll unfettered by such hastefulness and make instead a devotion of perambulation upon perambulation.

Perambulation the First
This path leads us we know not where and there without worry.
Even be it not one but many paths switching our small pack at each bend
Still we follow with well-seasoned confidence.
For ever aside us attends this inlet, a mutt of river and marsh,
Good in odor and bright with reflection.



Yay, the nones of this spring might blow a stinging blast upon our hides
But for this company of timber, a generous palisade of pine that is pitchy and oak scrubby.




Exegesis and Commentary

A weekend on the Cape in March to get away from routine and worry. Our first walk was at the Mashpee River Woodlands. It's odd now to see these pix of us so wrapped up against the cold, but at the time the weather seemed quite wonderful: brisk but good in the sun.

There were several more walks before the trip was over. After many months of fermentation, they seem ready to emerge from Frida's individual experience now.