A Poem to Entertain a Travelling God

A home of brick and wood,

my bungalow 

     sitting on a

          ravine below

where I played as a

child long ago.

I've tended the 

     leaves of grass

and 

     made my fort

“fit to entertain a travelling god”

     on the forest floor

          of my childhood's sod. 

We made a trail 

     to the meadows

and made footholds in the trees. 

We made dinner in the kitchen, 

my dear friend climbed the 50

     foot cedar, I watched him, 

          like a bird in the trees, 

               as free as a child could be.

As I looked at him he must have looked at me 

for we both had a sense of infectious glee. 

     I knew what he could see, 

he could see me in my bungalow, 

50 feet below, 

he could see the town of hills, 

the farmers' fields, 

the ravines and rivers, 

the trails that we walked long ago. 

     

     My friend is now long gone, 

across the ocean, 

he took to the blue 

of the sky and the sea. 

     Maybe he saw something more

 from high in the tree, 

something I couldn't see. 

     A part of me went with him, 

up that tree, into the sky,

over the ocean,

and the waves of the sea.

I wish I climbed with him,

took to the air, 

and the bodies of blue.

     I wish I had 

shared his view, 

and climbed with him.

    My friend, 

Dear Benjamin,

where now are you?