I would have liked to ask for your opinion
of sheep and horses as embodiments
of thought-signals in the work of Connie Willis,
warm instruments for the cold news of loss.
Most likely you’d have questioned the premise,
done it well and kindly then moved on,
watching as from the sky some alteration
in the landscape of one mind, before you flew
further, wider, winging to the next
cantref or county whose confused traffic
and milling herds required your raptor-guidance.
I wish you good flight, clear and fast and far,
still fascinated, as you always were,
by how much could be gathered out of air.

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