For Henry Grimes
Henry sits
in a plastic chair on
the balcony,
drinking water and watching
the lake.
Below the surface,
roiling motion.
Outside,
reflected sky.
Henry waits
to be surprised,
never knowing where
this note — here —
will take him.
Sometimes
he doesn’t find his way back
for a long time.
Henry talks
with his hands,
plucking and bowing his message,
going to the ritual and
inviting all to follow.
[…] another students, had been reading my poem “For Henry Grimes†during the latter part of this discussion, and she said she wanted to know about Henry next. I […]
This is beautifully stated.
Thank you!