It is not you my sweet friend
I lay to rest upon a bed of flowers,
cover over with petals
of pink and yellow and white
and all the gentle colors of the rose…
because I could not simply consign
your empty body to the earth,
lying on, surrounded by unlovely dirt.
It is not you there in the garden
under the cairn we built
to mark the place, I know because
I see you in my heart, with mind’s eye
romping full of life and spry again
in a meadow where the wildflowers
bounce and tease and play with you
and all the others who have gone before.
I know you are not there because
I glimpse you from the corner of my eye
from time to time about the house
behind the door or on the stairs…
or feel you snuggle in the night
in your accustomed place
against my shoulder, and I can almost
hear your calm persistent purr
especially in those moments
when I would miss you most
if I did not know that you
like all beloved pets
do not abandon us when
your ill or aging body dies
but stay nearby as long
as we still need you to be here.
2015
LOOSELY SPEAKING... 