When days were long, I was small.
Fall and Spring were part of Summer,
Woven in, but Time will fall upon the young
With silent tongue.
Until the seasons pass like weeks upon a respirator.
One chill takes the summer leaves.
One click and far away my analog world,
My kind, calm genius friend glowing green over EM fields of cells.
Patiently telling their secrets to me.
To the memory of my mentor and friend, Douglas Weeks, MD.
M. Talmage Moorehead