It's a fine day
  we’re walking in the hills, 
 surrounded by beautiful tall trees
  the light is bright but unfocussed 
 as though there was a fine mist across the sun
  I tell you I will walk with you as far as I can
  it’s a good day for walking
  the trees are so stately and quiet
  the air filled with their scent
  you seem nervous so I say, “It’s OK,
  I’m here at your side”
 quietly we ascend, there seems no need to talk 
  it’s not steep but always upwards
 and we grow breathless at times
 and then, quite abruptly, the trees clear 
 and we are on the open hillside
 I think it strange that I can’t see the sun
  but down below the lands are clear enough
  although so tiny
  and there by the shining river is our house - 
 unimaginably small but still visible in every last detail
 and the path continues upwards, 
 we’re nowhere near the summit
 I notice that the light has stretched you thin somehow 
 and your features are oddly bleached, like an old photograph
 and at that moment I know I can’t go any further, 
 so I turn and say
  “Dad, I have to return now but you must go on”
  you nod and we say goodbye, 
 I watch you for a few moments climbing higher and higher
  now radiant.
  Before I turn and walk back to the car
  parked on the gravel
  and make my way home
 
Michael Hannah