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.
