For Devin Poem by david lessard

Memories are photographs of the mind-
they bring your face before me-
recalling the limited times we
spent together.

We saw the sun come up
over the Grand Tetons, by Jenny Lake,
frost-covered sleeping bags
in the early mid-June morning.

We sat atop Mt. Mansfield,
Vermont's highest,
and soaked up the
summer sunshine there.

We took a skinny-dip
in glacier-fed water,
in the Sierra Nevada,
overlooking Lake Tahoe.

We walked down
the snows of Mt. Anderson,
in the Olympic National Forest,
'shooing' off a mountain goat
that was hungry for a handout.

On the upper reaches of the
Washington state coastline,
we plunged into the chilling,
white-capped waters of the
Pacific, wearing only our
underwear. (and I saw myself
as I was, twenty years before)

You were just a babe (two) when
your mother said goodbye,
to me...
It was hard, you being in
Washington state and me in
New England,
then Nevada
and now
in Arizona.

But I have my memories,
my photographs of the mind,
and like age, they get
better with time.