Iíll always be there if
you know where to look, by a quiet pond or a running brook, in a boat thatís
anchored in a sheltered bay, casting the shoreline at the break of day.
Watching for deer as they come down to feed, fishing for large mouth on the
edge of the weed, walking the shoreline where the cattails grow tall, by a
country road where summer meets fall. On a grassy bank amid the birds and
flowers, under the summer sun of the cool April showers, relaxing at night by
the light of the moon, where silence is broken by the call of the loon. So
donít grieve for me, I am still around, if you know where to look I can be
found. Where fishermen talk about the catch of the day, Iíll be no more than a
few steps away.