shouting
even the mundane
"I'll have the rye"
his intensity Mach 6
the voice
a major wind
launching paper napkins
hoisting them right up
off the kitchen table
into the air
where they hover, startled
excitable
like a young boy
ripping open birthday presents
devouring his school lunch
he lives his life consistently
at the edge of his seat
as if there is only
this one moment
in which to see and think
and smell and taste
in which to inhale this precious life
with unrivaled vitality
he pays tribute to life
each day
showing up
fully dressed and
at attention
and so
the thought
of this world of ours
enduring
without him
is simply
unimaginable
because
his very presence
whips up the air
that makes clouds move
and people recover
from losses
and every one he touches
rekindle hope
and dream of miracles
and a better day
ahead
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