one last letter

I wasn’t there

When they stuck you in the ground

I couldn’t stand the thought

The wind

The kind of wind that hits you from all sides,

Spins you around

And demands your attention

The kind of wind you would be

Was there.

And a spatter of rain.

And the still echoing guitar

Of Freebird

Languishing in my head while I reconciled

Why it is what it is when it is how it ends.