So Mike,
an end turns into
a beginning
as, hat tilted over your eyes
against the Durham sun,
you look past the caps and gowns,
in winding procession,
towards a horizon beckoning
a California sky.

Your robe flaps over shorts,
pockets stuffed with water bottles,
video camera—
You’re amply provisioned
for your journey
with a strong heart
ready to care,
eyes clear and open
to appreciate,
camera ready to record
the truth of what you see
and who you are becoming.

I have no fears for you.
I see you choose wisely,
looking for what lasts,
what calls forth laughter and joy—
avoid too much scheduling that tangles
in minute details
(though every jacket needs a pocket
just for timetables).

I wish you Godspeed,
and hope to share your movies
of distant lands,
experiences unknown.
I know you’ll come back
—three squeezes of your hand
are enough—
if only for a refill,
or fresh film,
before you head out,
heart first,

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