Death is 
a part
of life 
just as
a door 
is a
part of 
a room 

The evening sky
above the mountains 
is a dusty 
scoop of orange 
sherbet the range 
one long shadow 
of humpback whales 
in a riptide 
as darkness slowly 
creeps like cats
pursuing a mouse 
night will come 
as surely as 
dawn will tomorrow 

And now they’re gone 
those very same raindrops 
packed away I suppose 
like decorations after holiday 
or treasures and trinkets 
collected and lovingly spied
for a while anyway 
until the last of
the salt water smell 
gets washed away or
like tears withheld or
withdrawn or wiped away 
now gone all gone 

I miss seeing 
you before seeing 
it or them
or any other 
for you have 
become my for
and all that 
follows ever eigner
most and evermore 

Raindrops dot windows 
like little clear
ornaments hung on
the limbs of 
trees far away 
or like tears
of far off
buildings boo hooing 
that their cold
facades got wet
but mostly they 
cling holding on
peering in hoping 
that for just 
this once they 
won’t be forgotten