I love those verdant mountains;
I want to be there in the trees
among those pines and wild bluebells
and grass up to my knees.
And when it's time to bury me,
oh, bury me in those hills
where quaking aspen shimmer
and coyote calling thrills.
Don't dump me in the roiling sea;
I need some dirt to lay my head.
The fish won't make a meal of me;
let the hillside be my bed.
I'll be buried in those mountains;
remember what I've said,
but friends, before you bury me,
please wait until I'm dead.
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
(Written 17 November 2016) Revised 8 January 2018 Published in Panorama Volume 36 (2018-2019)