You are not a talkative sort —

Empty chatter is not your thing,

But you listen better than God,

And you always know what I mean.

I love diving into your eyes,

Somber pools set in golden rims —

All the answers are in this glance

Soaked with wisdom of ancient dreams.

When you curl at my feet at night

Thawing me with your steady warmth,

You keep listening, so that I might

Be forewarned of mysterious foes.

As I sweep endless wool you shed

In amounts that mock physics laws,

I’m grateful you are my friend,

And you watch me, your head on your paws.