Echoes

I drove by her house
The other afternoon
And sensed immediately
That it was empty.

She had moved away from the river.

I didn’t have to stop the car
To peer through the windows
Or knock upon the once familiar back door
To confirm
That the charming small cottage
Was void of furniture

The rooms ready for an echo.

The vitrine would be gone
As well as it’s delicate heirloom
Silver miniatures
Carefully wrapped by hand
And packed away in boxes.

The intact skeleton of a black bear
Enshrouded in a blanket
Prepared for a journey.

The massive shrines
Of deities
Carved in sandalwood
Cast in heavy solid bronze
Moved by strong hands
Leaving shadows in their place
Upon the wooden floors.

The frail table and chairs
At which we’d share sushi and wine and organic vodka
Were dusted and polished
Swathed in packing blankets
Awaiting.

There was no longer a bed
To hide the Hitachi Magic Wand under

It too
Packed away preciously
To be used again in a new life
Away from this river.