Feeding The Squirrels Poem by Gary Winkel

Half century angels
are asking hard questions.
Who's keeping the beat now?
Peering over the middle abyss
I couldn't let go
if I wanted to. Because
I'm not holding on to you. There is
an elegance in your laughter
from a place
I've come to appreciate,
but am far removed from.

You are feeding the squirrels
in the park.
Trying to gain their trust
to eat out of your hand.
I'm heartened
by how intent you are.
You didn't succeed,
but tried stoically through
the whole bag of nuts
and left after an hour
as you came.

I can still see
you taking the photograph
of me on the white bridge
over the river rushing
to an unknown future.
I thought then
I could have all the worlds granted
instead of just seeing between them.
The future still unknown,
but today you're feeding the squirrels
and leaving as you came.