This morning, coffee cup in my right hand, sitting,
facing out to the west and the snowy mountains,
a huge gray-white saucer of a cloud
seems to be smothering Pikes Peak.
In my left hand, a card that accompanied a book
I received yesterday, from my dear friend
Myles, in Philadelphia. Myles, a year ahead of me,
was one of my “angels” when I joined the Jesuits,
1961, studying to be a priest. Because his back
needed a spinal fusion, they made Myles exit
the Jesuits — and after three months in a body cast,
Myles went on to be a social worker.
Today, in an assisted living facility in Philly,
Myles suffers from acute fiber myalgia — but
went out, bought a book about poetry and mailed it
to me, with this card, now in my left hand.
“I wish I could show you. . .the astonishing light
of your own being,” Hafiz.
I send out Myles’s message to all of you — with light
and love from myself and this loving friend, Myles.