Elegy for a Breathing Poet
That voice on the coolest breeze was yours, Michael
You saw to the quick of the cut,
Wary eye upon the face of God,
Unflinching — courage embracing fear
Reading between lines that most cannot broach;
A living, breathing mystic
Guiding us to infinity,
Almost as if calling your shot.
I ruminate on your crossing, selfishly;
Young poet sharing my home state;
Imagined us crossing the same streams
In vastly different eras —
Surely there would be time to revisit,
But you felt the winds change,
Following currents I dare not follow,
Mysteries fueling your magic
Softening from gale to whisper
Of poetic wind twirls left behind;
We will never again hear your voice,
But your words ride the breeze
Seeding today for us lucky few
Whose lives you briefly touched,
With kindness, fertile ground.
Rest now, my friend;
We shall till
And sow them
With the magic you left us.
