The Journey is more important than the destination
Time is short:
Born blind and deaf upon the hay,
she could not feel the summer rays.
Locked inside a plywood box,
safe and sound amid moms’ locks.
Struggling for a nice warm teat,
that milk of life so sweet.
How quickly she did grow,
soon she learned of perfect snow.
The days went by much too fast,
her youth was gone it didn’t last.
She earned her place on the sled,
and for her work she was fed.
There was no time to be slack,
those who did lost the pack.
Only the strong would survive,
that is how the pack did thrive.
Working hard all day long,
followed with the evening songs.
Singing out the song of the life,
curling up on the frozen ice.
Nose tucked under a curly tail,
cold wind blowing in a gale.
Thankful for God’s furry gift,
sleeping soundly amid the drifts.
Dawn came peaking around,
dogs popping up from the ground.
A new day bloomed just ahead,
no time to worry or dread.
Life is short by any means,
the sin is not to chase your dreams.
Huskies chase those dreams each day,
Even if they have to pull a sleigh.
Dogs born unto the endless nights,
fearless beings who bring the light.
Look into those eyes so bright,
eyes that have second sight.
Souls that have seen it all before,
living large and want some more.
They know that time is short,
living life is not a sport.
TJ, 2018