Her voice sounds so clear, so young and lovely. I had forgotten what she sounded like then. I knew I couldn't tape this over, either. The dog, meanwhile, was standing there looking at me with that panting grin dogs wear when they are in their element to the hilt. But the look on his face just now is all wonderment and admiration.
Consciousness places frames of meaning on the wildernerss.
That was what I saw in the look in Beau's eye. It's entirely likely, as Stevens is his favorite poet. And it was a gorgeous day, with the scent of sand and pine adrift like microscopic confetti in the morning breeze.