I know a quiet girl
She plays with reeds
Solitude becomes her
Though her red hair
Might lead one to different
Conclusions she finds much of what
She needs in the solitude of
Her daily disciplines
I don’t see her smile or laugh
A lot though when she did
It warmed the room like sunshine
I learned she died today and
I just can’t believe it.

Hobie Davis
April 13, 1999