30 March 1966
                                                      Sembach, Germany
 

                  It's uncannily good
                  how wonderful your voice
                  can start the day,
                  even if it's half lost
                  and buried in a tangle of wires
                  on a telephone...
                  with the sun out first thing
                  and the sky clear-blue and cold
                  ... spring late and lazy
                  coming through the still wintery
                  end of March:
                                            your words
                  become the soft of morning's promise,
                  the warmth and hope of many summers
                  yet to be...
                                      interplayed
                  between the sound, the day...
                  the long and lonely distance bridged.