Grief

Even in the pure air 
of the rockies
where silence was born.
I can hear the soft sob of loss.
The eagle in
his mountain domain.
sheds a tear at this grief.
The roaring oceans 
still in its wake
are becalmed in anguish. 
As my bottle
drains its comfort
into lost moonless nights.
I hear the sorrow between
the ticking moments of time
It is everything I touch
the doorknob
the  light switch
Her photograph
the book by her chair
her glasses
my heart
my soul.