joyous dirge

when i come to death

let my body be buried

untouched, intact

lovingly folded under

blankets of grass

held in the quiet earth

—

when i come to death

let the trees sing my dirges

whispering, rustling

carried on the wind

to lands i loved

and shores unsought

— 

when i come to death

let it be peaceful

simply, gently

give me rest under hills

as if always i’d lain there

claimed by my Father and Time