When I close my eyes the needles
of longleaf pines still shine
in crepuscular light. Mocking
birds and cardinals pass
low over the back yard, conversing
about the trees. And when I steer
the Penske truck north next month,
the door of my Mississippi
home shut for the ultimate time,
Needles will cover my path
and the birds will follow me out
into the Pacific.
It's the last day of April and the end of National Poetry Month. Dan wrote 30 poems.
I thought this poem was fitting.
The photos are from our big move to Mississippi three years ago.
Crazy how fast time flies.
I never would have said that a year and a half ago.
By the way, Dan is beardless. Why? Because he had just finished working on the trains at Disneyland for the summer. He was a really cute train conductor.