Promise I’m not crazy
but today
in Highland Park,
thought I heard you
               calling for me
in the wind.

Heard my name
amid the rustle of leaves.

In that fleeting moment
came a whispered promise of:
One day.
               One day, again.

It was all I needed.
All I could have hoped for.

Call on me again sometime,
would you?

Such conversations
          give an old man
                              some much-needed
solace.

Ezy Reading is out every month.