He arrived suddenly, for that was his way,
always with a glad hand and a smile,
he was welcomed freely, expected or not.
He was a bedouin, the world his desert
a gypsy of sorts now here then there then . . .,
well that would be determined later.
Some hoped he would remain, forge
a physical closeness to match with
their feeling of emotional kinship.
But he was epiphytic, and the winds
that carried him were never predictable.
But he was there with them and that had
to be enough for them though it wasn’t.
They wanted more of him, more perhaps
than he could give, and as they waited
they saw him smile, and he was gone.