It’s hard to believe you’re not here. Seems like yesterday we were laughing at stupid jokes, not taking life too seriously. I found an old picture of you in a box and recalled something you used to say: You’ll always have what’s in your head. Now the trail we blazed through our mountains leads me back to your laughter.
a glissando of chirps
from the land of dreams
casting spells . . .
as bones rattle
the forest whispers
I rise again
a simple reminder
to cradle each moment
to listen
before it’s gone
Contemporary Haibun Online, December 2020
