As I said at the time …

Paradoxically, to meditate on death and dying is to consider life itself in its manifold opportunities. The blessings of teachers and mentors, guides and ancestors, family and friends all spring forth.

~*~

WAY BACK

six blue ridges:
five valleys in between

a procession of black carriages
to white tombstones
in a coal-dust haze

scarlet, purple, and gold
fade into rusty wheat and gray

wind in birches:
water falling on rock

Poem copyright 2017 by Jnana Hodson
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