Last Day

Death.

How I love it

how I fear it.

I see the mountains

before me. A crisp lake

of crystal clear water

below me.  A sky

azura blue.  The October

air carrying a gentle breeze

past me.  The leaves turning

many shades. Brown, gold,

red, yellow.  The fall crispness

comforting.  In the time

between death and growth.

The fall.  The best time to visit

my mountain in Maine.  These

are my last hours. No better

place to be then here.  The song

of the birds fills my ears.  I wish

to fly away up to them.  Let them

carry me away.  When I leave here

they shall take my soul home it’s home.

Nothing shall pass my lips.  My secrets

safe.  My eyes will dance with the sights

around me.  I will not fear leaving.

A smile and I fly.