To A Teacher/Poet Named Fred Poem by RIC BASTASA

i know Fred
and i remember him
he always wrote
about the rain

there was no flood in
his rain
i mean
there is no rage or anger
in him

just the gentle
shower of rain
a soft spoken kind
of rain

a patient shower
caressing fine sands
on many dark nights
when he was always alone

watching those stars
those silent stars
he loved loneliness
and loneliness loved him

he did not live
that long
he died
at forty

the rain remembered him
and in his grave
that day when he was buried
the rain, as gentle as

the early morning wind
fine feathers cotton soft
sings the last
hymn for him

it was sad & it was lonely
the flowers and
the butterflies all sighed