I think of him when the wind blows.
I have his chimes.
I listen to their notes and wonder.
Is he sending me a message.
Is he spelling it out in the musical notes A, C, E, F, B?
What is he telling me? Is he calling my name?
Or do the notes just bring me back into this moment,
away from my plans for tomorrow, back from my worry of yesterday?
You can’t see the wind. You can only feel it and hear it.
Is it an unseen proof of faith?
I hear it singing. I watch its moving shadows.
He was here.
Now he’s not.
Or is he?