Poem: October 27, 2019

Final Thoughts

What if at the end of life
we could sit out in the sun
on soft and mossy turf with
everything in the distance,
golden sunlit fields stretched
out to a horizon of hazy grey-
blue hills, a single white
horse shaking its mane and
far away, a thin dirt trail
winding toward the shallows
at the bend of a dancing
river, and birds, yes, and a
breeze, stones and trees.

And what if, in finding
ourselves there, our earthly
attachments began to fall
away, without sadness, just
small tugs of soft gratitude.
Our eyeglasses and jewelry,
our belts and shoes, our books
and bags, and the many things
we carry in our pockets, our
clothing, even the ink from
our tattoos, leaving only the
collection of our atoms, here
and at a distance, not even
a stone wall or airplane or
building in sight, and there
would be no human sounds,
no music, no ticking clocks,
no voices near or through
the phone, just the warm and
passing world, and the flock
within ourselves, fluttering
and ready to take flight.