Is he mad now? We've seen him talking To his one remaining dog; Then watching to see If she misses Ginger As much as he; Which anyone should know, And abandoning his books For tablets without print Or sense then scribbling In them. The rain Is falling again So he makes tears Of it and listens Intently with pen poised As though there were Someone out there For him in the darkness With dank wet fur Ready to lead him away Whenever he would choose.