I will wear your flannel shirts on these mornings

When steam fog rises from the pond

And birdsong weaves through the silent trees.

(Do trees have voices?

I still hear yours, raised in murmured song

As you prepared for the work ahead.

You thought I slept but I was always listening.)

I will prepare hot strong coffee, one cup only,

and drink it black from your favorite cup.

(I always preferred tea but never mentioned,

Wanting to join you in this ritual to begin the day.

Would you have minded? I never thought to ask.)

I will try on your pretty pink shoes

And laugh as I always did when you wore them.

(I loved the way they contrasted with the toughness of the shirts.

You were the only girl I knew who chose such attire.

Did I ever tell you? Now I wish I had done so every morning before you left for work.)

Will, I miss you. I always miss you.

I say this now, and all the things I never said and the questions I never asked

I repeat with every breath.

I want to miss you in the rain

Seeing your face in the mirrored droplets of the downfall

So that I find you pictured everywhere I turn

Seeing your face in the puddled forms of the sidewalk

So that I change my step to not disturb your gaze

Seeing your face in the glistening windows of the storefronts

So that I pause to stare into your countenance

If I do this, then the grief that overcomes subsides

As there you are and there you and there you are.

Until I remember with the returning ache of solitude

That I never met you do not know you will never find you.

You never existed do not exist will not exist

There is only a walk in the rain

Once upon a time in my life,

I fled to a new city.

I knew no one; had no money; had no food.

I shivered alone in a desolate room;

Tried not to think; tried not to cry.

A knock on the door.

I opened it to find a stranger.

He stood careworn by age and whatever of life’s trials

Had brought him to this place.

He handed me a coffee can.

It contained a few eggs, some ground coffee, a packet of bacon.

“This is what I keep on hand for the last of the month.”

Stunned I thanked him. He left.

Then:

On my way to the refrigerator I tripped; dropped the can.

The eggs broke. I cried in despair.

I took the can; removed the coffee and bacon;

Picked out the shell fragments.

I cooked the eggs with the bacon;

Made coffee as best I could on the stove.

I knocked on several doors until I found my benefactor.

I explained what happened; asked him to share the food.

He accepted. We sat together;

Exchanged a few words while we ate.

Soon after I left the area but will never forget this.

How did he know?