it’s taking too long
he says
he’s talking about dying
lying in thin pale gown
nothing left to do
made his peace
said good bye
he’s tired
he’s ready
and yet death does not come easily
like picking stones on a stubborn field
breath follows breath
heart pounds on in caged chest
a determined life
gathering stones along the way
a mother’s coffin
a father’s hard eyes
harsh prairie drought
a war fought in the forest and with
a conscience
a girl’s young love
74 year romance
toil at sawmill and in prairie
soil
children’s cries and giggles
body betrayal and surgeon’s
scalpel and saw
faith forged in doubt and study
until you get a spirit so
tempered
it will not yield easily
but is an iron grip on life and its stony lessons
but then next breath
does
not
come
and he is ushered on
leaving us to marvel at the memory of eye’s twinkle
