Something cruel
in not saying Goodbye . . .

fog on the mountains,
drizzle on the windshield, a buzzard
between covered peaks dark and
beautiful from this distance floats
invisible currents, a secret passage
as close as the imagination above
leafless timber dripping gray . . .

Just about everyone deserves
Goodbye eye to eye – a mirror
for the sake of conscience . . .

don’t ambush me by stealing
away in the dark leaving me to carry
the weight of your loss . . .