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now is the time

now is the time for quiet mourning

the snow sifts down and swirls the light has no color

now is the time for knowing how your world has changed forever

someone who was there is not there and there is now here inside

and there inside and there and there inside people who are still here

and when you see them and look in their eyes you both will look for him in your separate insides

and see or not see what you hope for

from Steve — poems from a friend — Bill Eberle

Thomaston Maine Sunday February 24

remembering cross country skiing at Steve’s

these are fragments of an original now lost somewhere in my imagination . . . beautiful words were there shining and when I reached for them only the first few lines were left and so I began again