We don’t imagine men
who live alone
in the mountains
of ever dying—
we seldom saw them
when alive.
Word trickles down
the watershed:
tracks in fresh snow
where he lay down
forever to become
part of our landscape.
New from Dry Crik Press: “RECKONING”
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Old soldiers and cowboys never die, they just fade away…
(That’s what the poem made me think of. )
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Such a peaceful concept. Gave me goosebumps.
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Alone with God. Remembered by a few.
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Very nice. Thank you.
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