
from heaven
you will spot me
beneath the enormity of trees
Where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry.
Tim
seeks me
in the garden
small
white
butterfly
always
hovering
nearby
Ghost
that I glimpse
from the side of my eye
Darting through blossoms
resting on leaves
Taking advantage of sunshine and breeze
Pointing out a shapely cloud
waiting on my mailbox
inquisitive antenna cocked
Reminding me
as mortality
rages on
death
is not
the final stop
Moss writes the inscription
on the tree’s tombstone
well lived, generous even in death.
Coming upon the cairn in the woods
I knew we were still traveling together.
I added one stone for the two of us
and saw the face of a wise, knowing owl.
He goes free of the earth.
The sun of his last day sets
clear in the sweetness of his liberty.
The earth recovers from his dying,
the hallow of his life remaining
in all his death leaves.
Radiances know him. Grown lighter
than breath, he is set free
in our remembering. Grown brighter
than vision, he goes dark
into the life of the hill
that holds his peace.
He’s hidden among all that is,
and cannot be lost.
Scatter your wishes
farther than your feet will ever travel.
Dream dreams bigger than the universe.