Friday, November 16, 2007

A well loved poem in honor of my friend's mother, who we buried today


Sabbatical

Someday I want to take my leave
without a ripple, after the sun turns

sour. Perhaps a night when winds
are calm and the moon turns rain.

You'll be sleeping of course, but I won't
disturb your rest, just ease through the door,

start walking West. Someone I've known
may feel an emptinesss, go to the window

and not know why. Remember that morning
robins stopped singing? Nobody noticed

till after snow. That's how I want to go.
Look for me in the shade of a willow.

Listen hard. Whatever grass says,
it speaks for me.

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