I just met Bill. In the
Perfect time. As all these
Sort of things are.
A 90 year old man, thick
White hair – gleaming
Eyes appeared at my door.
A tear or two, in the
Dip of mine. Eyes – I shared
The bird story – Attendees
To the funeral, no longer
On site.
We crossed the path
To Bill’s backyard. A
Crescent moon to our
Delight. A shovel in hand,
I said a prayer, as
I did each Carcass –
Driving West. Let me tell ya,
there were a lot of blessings,
In West Texas. Buzzards
Hovered. Smiling.
In red clay dirt –
Color like cinnamon,
The hole was dug.
Nothing fancy. No black
Dress – Sobs or fights.
In a burial ground of tall
Sage – a charming bird,
To rest, we laid.
Isn’t it funny how some of
Us meet?
Medicinal Conversations 