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.