Voices From Across the Pond

(For Ros)

It's like that with me you once said, the tides and the birds...the trees and the sounds of crickets -they give you a hint of joy...amidst the most somber of days.

You love the depth of the writer,and the dances of the thieving crow...you've always been a fighter,even when your highs...were so very low.

The salty mist soaks your skin...whilst ferrying the ride across the sound...to another place.  It is there that you hear his footsteps...It is there that you see his candor; as expressed in his sentiments of short quips and elaborate narratives.

He still walks the old paths...amidst the new.  It's the "real" that you love.  The insatiable desire to know it...to be it...perhaps it would not be fair to tally it as an obsession, only a living prayer, a living moment suspended in time...every bit as real as it ever was...now.

These are the voices I hear....from across the pond.