January 2018
Fredric Hildebrand
fhildebrand@new.rr.com
After a 25 year career as an interventional cardiologist I retired in January 2017. One of a number of new adventures for me is poetry writing. I have been an avid reader for years, and in a previous life I was an English major. I live in Neenah, WI., with my wife, two sons, and two Labrador retrievers. 

On the Road to Rochester, MN


I stopped at your favorite diner,
where five years ago, on our last
trip, you told me you wouldn’t treat
your cancer if it recurred. 

Three times was too much. 
Time to stop fighting.
Enough was enough.

A short time later you knew it
had returned and 
said nothing,  
hiding breathlessness, constant
pain. When you finally gave in, 
with your dignity intact, 
you slipped away peacefully.
I held your hand and wept.

Back on the highway I crossed 
the Mississippi. Beyond the water
I ascended to the flatlands,
where endless fields touched
a blue and hopeful sky. 





The Night Train


Sometimes when I lie awake
and hear the piercing whistle 
the night seems blacker,

the desolation of sorrow 
greater. I think of loneliness 
and the vast coldness that can

separate people. These thoughts 
spin like a child pedaling
a tricycle in endless 

circles.Then the train rumbles 
away and the deep silence 
returns. I hear her breathing, 

its peaceful, calming rhythm. 
The space of melancholy grows 
smaller and the spinning stops.

I think of the train reaching the 
next town, I embrace love and hope, 
and remember how fortunate I am.
© 2018 Fredric Hildebrand
Editor's Note:  If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to tell him or her. You might say what it is about the poem that moves you. Writing to the author is the beginning of community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -FF