Vagrant Wind by Bruce Campbell Walters
(From Assisted Living Retirement Home)
Also this phenomenon I note:
When I write letters whose recipients
after several intervals of several months
answer and do not discourse on items I have raised,
or speak to questions that I ask,
but each–uniquely poised at central point
of each one’s world–relates to me he saw a cloud,
or comments on a vagrant wind along the grass
where he resides.
Suddenly He’s Gone
There’s little I can say to Marshall now.
Suddenly he’s gone, I don’t know where.
Whether all he was is buried in the grave
Or if the truth and core of him survive
On some other plane and in another life
All I know is this: I miss him.
I miss you Marshall.
I remember you
And I miss you.