THE PASSING OF YEARS
The years pass
Without a word
No instructions
Simply pass
One after the other
Usually, before I get to know thee
You are gone
Just a number on the calendar
Crossed off
Spirit-dog stands at my side
My companion
He warns bears not to come
Into the yard
To keep a sacred distance
Each day I dig the hole
A little progress daily
A hole in the earth
Just my size
Wrapped in
White linens
A final resting place
The morning still and quiet
I listen for that sound unusual
Never knowing the words needed
To say my say
To sing my song
I spread them all out
I scatter the black words
Across the white paper
A murder of crows
I am writing about you
My every act
My breathe
Searches empty spaces
I find you there
Nestled in between
June 10, 2018
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