Our Last Walk With a Friend

I spent most of the night flipping my pillow, desperately seeking a cool side. Anticipation is a lousy companion for sleep. 

You come to me now in dream; in bird: Circling raptors, rapid flaps of a mountain sparrow wing. Movement and light … flash and whir. 

The sky is fluid. 
Club soda over ice.
An extinguished match. 

Our cocktail of fog and smoke and mist.

We’ll call it a Grey Ghost.
On the rocks. 

Stories are made with every step. At the belly of this beautiful beast we make our offering of tears and ash. 

Mountain goats, pikas, ground squirrels and ptarmigans.

We’ll carry new stories home to weave into the old ones until there is just the one story.

Our boots have carried the day in all the ways that they can. 

There is satisfaction in both hunger and exhaustion; in giving spirit back to the wind. We left pieces of all of us in that most sacred place. 

A last walk with a friend. 

We miss you.

9 Comments on “Our Last Walk With a Friend

  1. Pingback: The Poetry of Choice – In Search of the Very

  2. My foster daughter and I had a conversation about scattering ashes when she was a teenager.

    We were driving north to see the tulips. I mentioned that I wanted my ashes scattered in the tulip fields. She asked me why and I told her that my ashes would make tulips grow and tulips make people happy. She was quiet for a few minutes and then asked, ‘Where do you scatter ashes if someone wants to come back in the next life as a dog?” I asked her what breed of dog she would like to be and her answer was, “A German Shepherd”. Then we had a long discussion about where German Shepherd dogs might have their ashes scattered,

    • I left a small heart stone I’ve been carrying with me. I may go back in September during the week when I’m more likely to have some solitude. It will be my place of reflection.

  3. Thanks, Gretchen.
    The lesson of the day for me is “the trouble is, we think we have time”.
    Cherish those you love every day, even in small ways.

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