the long drive from Saavedra

And it comes to me again.

Even not yet absolute, 
the one remaining 
year in this country. 

From Germany, J sends
congratulations saying
his own return after

Denmark and torn Israel. 
Till we meet again, I say
motioning the years 

near a decade or so. Or
so. G is now rarely
mentioned, left

(after retirement) several
pages back. In Spain. 
In other points elsewhere.

The marching continues
off from coast to coast.
In middle, Raymund

takes his off-road motor
to return to his kids--
a last save before

they are all grown.
G had always said
about the passing

of grace, nothing 
permanent except what
the moment has. 

And it comes to me again.

Even not yet absolute, 
the one remaining 
year in this country. 

During the not-long-enough

drive from Saavedra

to her warmth.

And it comes to me again. 

Nights 

we hold as long as we can.