Larry passed away on December 2015.
The wet December snow clings to the graying coat of the old dog. Undaunted, he wades through a drift that barely clears his belly. We are immersed in snow, the dog and I, but more immersed in the silence it brings. Everything is closing in. The shroud deepens. The silence settles in. I believe roams more freely in the gray snowfalls than in the quite rains of summer. Rain is but a shadow of the silence - shimmering drops on leaves that drip away into bird song, yet the dog and I speak for life in the dead landscape. A loud shout, a well chosen phrase might shatter the silence but - words have no meaning here. Like icicles, they hand on the winter air melting away drop by drop in the rising sun of some other morning.
- by Larry West, he and his beloved dog Mackeever walking in the winter snow