I see Moses, the neighbor’s dog, playing with her. She is holding a number of things: a ball, a disc, a ring.

He looks up at her, his tail wagging, whimpering, saying, 'Quick! Give me this or that. I want to play now.'

She throws a ball and he races after it, not knowing he can't keep it for always.

He comes back loping, the ball clenched between his jaws. He runs around her in circles

Unwilling to relinquish the ball. Whimpering again as she pries it away from his mouth.

We are full of the same foolishness.

We whimper to God to throw us things. We know it is only play yet how we whimper again, when it's time to give the ball up!

Again she throws the ball out. And Moses dashes after it Barking in time to her clapping.

What am I but a dog playing imperfectly with the universe! And what is this poetry but my barking!