Jack stopped by this morning.
It was a quick visit, a liitle hello
that ended before ten. Months
had passed since he was last here,
and, as I said, he didn’t stay.
Still, images of him drifted
across my mind the whole day.
With a few sweeps of his brush
he caught the colors of the sunrise
in broad, feathery swaths,
and behind them, fragile stands
rose from the depths, like secrets
yet to be revealed. He’ll come
again, paint another story. I’ll wait.
Oh, Jack, what pictures you leave
in my mind, even when all signs
of you have melted away.