Life With Horace

poetry & essays


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How is it?

How is it
on the mountain, friend,
your spirit free
to roam the peaks
while others only visit,
awed by your home?

Can you see
the wonders that
your children are,
carrying you forward,
best parts mostly,
through life’s flow?

Do you know
I miss you still,
regrets dimmed,
a mind’s eye memory
of boundless energy,
on the night we met?

Is that you
beside me in the woods,
silent escort through
the marshes, dogs in hand,
then safely home,
here for the asking?

Yes

_____________________________________
For Mike, whose birthday was today. the photo is of Mount Lafayette, where his ashes rest.