Charlie

In honor of Charles Greaves. He now waits with Jesus and all those who have gone before for the world to finish its act of being made new. He was a gift to me.

Yesterday

At the end of the morning routine:

The coffee

The writing

The consideration of spring

Finally arriving,

The robin,

The ducks out back,

The red male cardinal,

Contrasting now

With emerging green,

Yesterday

At noon

I learned Charlie died.

The funeral was at two.

So we went to the service.

At the beginning

Of my venture into counseling

Charlie told me

He could see it

Me

Sitting with people one on one:

Me

The one who brought him

Into my office,

Shut the door,

Told him he could not behave

The way he was behaving.

He listened.

I left soon after

So I never knew if he really stopped

Or maybe sort of stopped.

I wore my collar to the funeral

In honor of Charlie,

Sat in the back row.

A ladybug landed on the bulletin

Walked the entire edge

Top to bottom

Then back to the top.

Perhaps it was Charlie

Showing me he now knew

About boundaries.

No.

I know it was Charlie.

Now he is free.