early morning flight

When I left, you were face down in the pillow
Gone somewhere on your own,
So I stood a while in the doorway,
My hand raised in blessing and goodbye.
I thought how this could be the last
You ever saw of me and yet you slept
Unknowing, unaware that I was gone already,
Had packed my bags, had taken the keys,
Was far away in flight, above the roof, above the trees,
Yet standing in the doorway, my hand raised
In blessing or goodbye,
Standing on a distant bridge of morning
While you dreamed me by your side.

O, Danny Boy

We climbed the rocks above the gorge

to have your party as you wanted.

The evening sun shone from the ancient

river like a fire encased in steel.

The air, sweet and cold, rang little

breath clouds as we sang your Irish song.

Anna, swaying as she sang, held to you as you

had held to her when she was still your child.

You didn’t mind the clinging; you seemed

in no great rush to go your way alone.

When finally it was time for you to leave, you faltered,

torn between falling back with us and flying free.

Just then, the wind picked up the tune, the trees

piped out your name, and we in silence watched

as you embraced the sky.