Not sure why the guise of a suicide
Was chosen for you to wear
He was young
More gristle than meat
Slouching in dirty baggy jeans
Holding a greasy ball cap
By the just right folded brim
Before he and his deer rifle
Laid down for the last time
On his daddy’s worn couch

You appeared the first time
The dust motes dancing around your head
Sitting in the wingback chair
An almost apologetic look
For the dusty work boots on your feet
Startling me into awareness
Which I learned was your intent

That second appearance
You walked out of the shadow
Into the crystal morning light
Hat in hand
As I made the bed
Pulling up the heavy winter comforter
And I was prepared
For the next lesson meant for my eyes

It was only after your third visit
Sitting on the porch in the afternoon sun
That I heard the sound of wings

That was your final visitation
And I have tried to stay
Ready for a sign
Sometimes looking for you
In the dancing motes
Of crystalline morning light
And in the acclamation of dove wings