The Pacific wind has moaned

tears drip slowly from darkened clouds

laden with this day's laments

in Imnaha, fresh earth has been turned out

beside the halllowed site

his casket readied for interment

he awaits in repose

here shall he rest

in the clutches of eternity

no longer weary - nor worn

from the gallant struggle he waged

survival's option lost

forty years and more

we shared seriousness, laughed and cried

the trust between us, was heavy

diversity, give and take

cementing a common bond

his passing number two this year

number three in less than a year

on the list of friends and family

so rapidly diminishing

the once long list

now shivering in brevity's wake

I'll no longer parley routinely with him

relying on recall to revisit

good times

now always in the past

In Imnaha, I do not expect

to engage in

converstions above my whisper

for dust, convereses not