Roundtop Mountain
Years
passed
and then
he returned...
achy joints, frail limbs
struggling up my long gentle face
and then I knew, for like a songbird without a song
what he had left behind for the future—the vigor and glee of youth—was incomplete.
He now brought his soulful spirit which I will protect
until he returns as a drop
of rain or snowflake,
specks of ash
dotting
beech
leaves.
