REMEMBERING MUKPO

the day after thanksgiving, walking with
my friend up the mountain, the same
mountain i walk most days, i realized i
went where i didn’t mean to go...
i’d already been up to take some
space, to give him some quiet in the house
and on my way back, i met him, two
mason jars of coffee in his jacket

sitting on the cliffs, drinking
coffee, we told stories, jokes, asked for help
for forgiveness, watched the sun arch and
drop
we walked below the cliffs and stopped
then walked further, back up and around the
other side to a smaller, steeper more remote
cliff

we traded haikus and laughed about our ichabana
arrangements for the family the day before,
white and red pines, a spruce and low bush
juniper, quiet blue still reflecting off us
to the air around, moss,
lichens on tree and rock

i don’t worry about losing this friend,
i worry about losing the moment
and the ease of his breath...

i’m not afraid of forgetting his nature,
or breaking his heart, i’m afraid of
being bound in an unlocked cage,
never seeing the moon for the
friend beside me
or the pines in the cold blue air