I was early
So I parked
Beside a wetlands reserve I had no inclination to enter
I was just here
In the moments before I’d arrive there
Where she was
Or would be
Waiting
I was reading a magazine article
In digital form of course
Of a man writing of his profound grief at the loss of his son
Of the journey he went on
To the emptiness of a canyon
To the emptiness of the desert
Of the landscape that changed
In the light of the sun
In the light of the moon
A landscape that reminded him
As everything did
Of his son who was
Who now always would be
The one who was
As I read I couldn’t help weeping
A little
I couldn’t help it
There are some things
Some people
Who exist now only in the rear view mirror
And even then they are hard to see
It’s harder still
To watch them disappear