Thursday Poem - Assurance

You will never be alone, you hear so deep
a sound when autumn comes. Yellow
pulls across the hills and thrums,
or the silence after lightening before it says
its names—and then the clouds' wide-mouthed
apologies. You were aimed from birth:
you will never be alone. Rain
will come, a gutter filled, an Amazon,
long aisles—you never heard so deep a sound,
moss on rock, and years. You turn your head—
that’s what the silence meant: you’re not alone.
The whole wide world pours down.

William Stafford, (from The Way It Is)

For my little brother James Brendan Franklin, (March 10, 1960 - August 22, 2023). Rest in peace, Jamie. Journey on without pain and suffering. Go forward knowing you were (are, and always will be) treasured and much loved. I carry you in my heart.