We walk with our dog to the graveyard in Derby.  Up a hill, up a long white gravel road, very late in the evening, life and death flow together—the softness of evening light on the green grass; the grinding of a tow boat on the river below; tombstones smoothed by time, carved with long poems about weeping.   On the way back down, the dog runs ahead. 

we throw the stick again
and again the dog
brings it back