Spirit can not be encased
like art
souls
glide
beside our eyes
on wings spread wide as the sea
small as nothing
living
in two worlds
We carried each other
Beside winter’s snow laden pine
I call your name
listen
for a silent note
peace
Around my shoulders
an arc
of love
I
memorize
You are near
giving
just as you always have
when fingers
crocheted
a prayer into
each
stitch
My aunt Alma, visiting with my son, nine years ago. She passed away November 10, 2006. I still miss her.