Late October. Twilight gathers gloom
A seated group. A table. Someone lost
Drizzling rain. An absence in the room
Walking alone has brought with it a cost
Dark deepens, owls zipper down the air
Cold rises, biting, from the freezing moss
A search begins. The how, the why, the where
How fit was he? Was he the kind to stray?
Police dogs look lively, sniffing here and there
The mountain rescue team maps out the way
The helicopter arcs its pool of light
So soon it flips face down, the perfect day
A slip. A frightening wait. The walker, found
No body bag- safe stretchered to the ground
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem