In mourning: Jim Harrison, 78 (Chronicler of Upper Lower and UP Michigan) poet, short story and novella writer, fly-fisher, gourmet, lover of liquor, died Holy Saturday at his winter home in Patagonia, Arizona, near the Mexico border.
Here’s a poem Jim just as well could have written Good Friday. It strikes me as a good way for the “Old Dog” to say goodbye.
BY JIM HARRISON
The moon comes up.
The moon goes down.
This is to inform you
that I didn’t die young.
Age swept past me
but I caught up.
Spring has begun here and each day
brings new birds up from Mexico.
Yesterday I got a call from the outside
world but I said no in thunder.
I was a dog on a short chain
and now there’s no chain.