Ten years ago today we flew together
from New York
you were already dying
just shy of ninety-six your heart
was giving out
and on the plane
they told me should you pass
during the flight
best to pretend that you
were only sleeping
or else we'd have to land
but you were stalwart
made it through to Salt Lake City
and then on to Oregon
and the next morning
looking out the window
from your wheelchair
at the remnants of the summer garden
and the passerines
the titmice, juncos, warblers
crowding the feeder
you looked up and said to me
Oh Stephen, this is perfect! and I knew
despite the disapproval of your doctor
that I'd done well to bring you from the city
to the solace of our country home