Reflections In a Cemetery
It’s lovely here especially in the Fall,
the Maples are tall and burning bright.
The graves and crypts are ornate and marbled,
old money made them.
I thank them all for being here before me;
for me though, a cremation
and a river journey awaits.
I imagine fishes nibbling at my ghost,
abandoned truck tires
accommodating my swirling ashes.
Eventually a karmic wheel
may turn to my turn.
In generations perhaps, I'll be transformed
through new seeded dreams
into a beautiful Maple tree
in an autumn cometary for the well-heeled
and long planted.
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