There is not much I can say
except his eyes have darkened
and in his half-dreams, once familiar
long cold fingers reach out
as if trying to grasp onto something.
Attempting to orient him, I pointed to
a full moon among white clouds, lingering
in a late August sky still blue,
the striation of purple as
the sun disappeared off to the west.
Surrounded by cats, our sons, and me
draping him with a soft blanket
for better or worse
not even the bird feeder full
nor a fire pit warming all of us
could keep his mind from
some imagined invitation
to a party just for him
that he dressed and waited
on the front porch alone,
angry, insistent and distant.
until death do us part
I cannot imagine living without him