Like the tall men of fortune
Who gained strength from yesterday’s goodbye
Sol would always stand beside the gates of time
Waiting for tomorrow’s first hello.
Even as each new warmth began to fade,
Beyond the hills of fear and despair,
He ran as close to the edge of love
As his tired dreams would allow.
Please, then, dear God, if you Will–
Extend your hand let him
Ride upon your touch.
And, in doing so,
Never feel the ground.

Feb. 8, 1981

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