Signs of Ma

, , , then on the seventh day, -walking to the valley with brother Gene - a silver haired fox crossed our path - (un-indigenous) Dare I say, moving through dimensions, he cocked his head at us but never altered his gait. , , , Done now almost with my death duties - the sudden vacancy started to take hold- But I did not see you Ma, not in the Irish nun at your wake, that, upon realizing she was at the wrong service said, “Oh BEGORRA, God must a sent me then.” (I did not correct her redundancy) Later when the Irish priest hit my car in San Francisco and laughing he said, “Oh BEGORRA son, Be careful on your journey ” I felt your sense of humor, then, Ma, getting it I thought of the nun too - Realizing they were you - not just ready for what lay ahead. , , ,How would I continue my journey without your guiding word - rich yellows, oranges and purples of a New York fall - you always had a good sense of timing - Calling home from the docks is when the falcons began, looking up, three, circling me, from above. Then underway on the bridge-wing landed -With all your resplendent dignity- your talons golden, great and sharp clinging to the rail, your head askew. You would ride with me too far out to sea - too far for a hawk - To make it back to shore -