For beautiful little Sam--lost on this day years ago and still missed.

               The Alchemists' Secret


A barely noticed bump in someone's road--
          a stain on the asphalt,
          a smudge of goo,
          of fur--
And you join that great whirling vortex of freshly dead.

That great hoard of lost things--
          the finny,
          the feathered and furry,
          all those crunched and munched ones--
Swirling out to God Knows Where.

You should be here
          like every other morning,
          purring in the crook of my arm,
          licking my nose
And nudging me towards breakfast.

In that great tide of loss--
          with all the shredded,
          with the careless,
          with the swatted and processed--
What will set you apart?

In all that flurry where you fly or float--
          my balm,
          my poultice,
          my true friend--
What will mark you for God's eye?

It's the Alchemists' Secret.

The thing that changes
          the carbon based refuse
          littered across the world
          as dust returns to dust,
The thing that changes some dust, at least,
                              to gold..

Your tiny red collar,
Your silver bell.