My daughter and I
camped
on the North Shore.
So close to heaven
in a tent.
I think she wants to live
that way forever.
We curled against
the cold in June.
Wearing winter clothes
in our sleeping bags.
Just a little
further north
with my father
long long ago
it once snowed
on an early
September morning.
No roads
only water
to guide us
through.
Today I held
so softly
his tissue paper body
and placed my hand
on the curved vertebrae
of his spine.
He said
I hope to see you again.
He is waiting
by himself
on the platform.
Quiet and still.
Waiting for the next train.
.
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