(the day the Pope died)
It thunders and rains outside as I contemplate a dream
of my family attending my brother's funeral
(he was still alive in the dream).
The nearness of nature's retrieval taking
my good friend and next door neighbor.
Sixty seven, and we had joked around
the morning that he hit the ground, eyes closed,
never to open again.
Now his grandchildren peer over the balcony
waiting for the flute guy to come joke with them.
Lessons to be learned....
In his last days he told his wife,
"I've finally got my shed organized the way I want it"......
-- James Wisniewski / aka, wZ