It’s been eleven years since my brother flew off the edge of our world.
I miss him. I’m hoping God’s grace caught him
and placed him somewhere near the sea.
Sometimes I feel him close by.
Maybe the buck who follows us around the yard,
Or the blue jay who sits on the window sill and pecks at the glass.
He’ll always be alive in our memories
and in the stories we tell.
©2015 Sharron R. McMillan