a silhouette of meaning
high in the iron wood
He takes me by the hand again, we gone fishing by the shore.
bloom and show their gift
he had prayed, without words, without thought, with simple life-sustaining breaths and become one with the wilderness
In honor of these memories I do not have, this imagined salute to ~…~ with a wink and a squeeze directed to our curious times.”
the discerning eyes of the beholder