Leaving home for a long walk to clear my head,
I looked up. Saw an eagle. And remembered you were dead.
Trash can lid in my hand, so I stumbled for my phone.
Snapped a photo, but the big bird had already flown
too far out of frame.
I whispered your name.

Felt like it could snow if it was just a bit colder,
but I set out in shirtsleeves ‘cause we ain’t getting any older.
Hoping to get some clear-headed miles under my belt.
I needed this because my mind and body felt
a jumbled-up mess.
Tis the season, I guess.

Without a plan, I let my brain and my feet
wander through the years, and along the street,
sidewalks, and train tracks, all through town.
And the very moment I stopped looking down,
he was circling above me again.
My wide-winged friend.

Last week they fished a body out of the lake
by the waterfall, on the route I usually take.
Tragic news that brings it all to the surface again,
sends me down a twisting torturous path of pain
in my heart, and in my head.
You are still dead.

And now, this very moment, I look up from these words
to see another gorgeous grand majestic bird
right there on my television screensaver.
Some fixed predestined fate shining in my favor?
or is it chance?
Mere happenstance.

You taught me there’s no fate, no grand design.
If we search for signs – then we will see a sign-
and if we don’t seek them out, they won’t be there.
Or perhaps they still exist, somehow. Somewhere
too far out of frame.
I whisper your name.