The Grave In The Woods (In Memory Of Howard Walker) Poem by Raymond Farrell

Across fields where buttercups grow
Through pastures where daisies bow and blow
A meadowlark sang with angelic voice
As if cajoling creation to rejoice.

His intent was in his song
Mine forced me to move along
By clean worn paths to find
A place envisioned in my mind.

About the spot, his son said
Where the ashes have been laid
You know of where I speak
By the gentle bend in the creek.

Guided less by precise direction
Than by his verbal inflection
I took the path I thought best
And disregarded the rest.

On one side hardwoods, the other a cedar hedge
Sloping gently down while skirting a rocky ledge
Then as if playing a game of hide-and-seek
Disappearing in a clearing beside the creek.

I found the stone in a bed of mossy grass
Next to a run where deer are known to pass
Briefly pausing I thought back over the years
Then turned and left with my eyes full of tears.