4 April 2022

By Philip Kuepper

It was the whisper of things
that moved him:
the whisper of a breeze
on the cheek of the air;
the whisper of a leaf
caused by that same breeze
passing among the branches
of the tree of which the leaf was a part;
the whisper of a wave
as it brushed the beach,
where he stood, now, remembering
the races he had rowed.

(13 October 2021)