if my spirit returns,
let it be in feather, fur, or fin-
your creations in the wilding,
whose years seem short to us
but are unburdened with evil thoughts,
and care not for the praise of others
They look to live a life
always in the now,
having scant worry for the future
and none of the past’s regrets.
And when the weathers are fair,
they are so free,
and knowing naught of care
they look to Thee.