he once said outloud
with a strong
sure
voice
“those are buttermilk clouds”

i did not doubt him
for i loved the sound
of the words
that i heard
before

now
his voice is weak
and barely heard
above the sound of the
oxygen machine

now
he is hooked-up
in a solitary way
the food
the tube
entering through skin
into his stomach

no more hunger
now
only death can
release him
from the pain

the thorn
in his side
is breath

Photo ~  taken just outside of St. Libory, Illinois, on the way back from Indiana. Which was a trip to see the man that told me of buttermilk clouds..  The grandfather of my daughters and my ex-husband’s father. May 2, 2016.

Nancy