Clear skies make the

grass look silver in

the moonlight pouring

down over my head

like cascading

streams that scour

and scar the rolling

hills with swollen

twisting waterfalls.

The bones of an

old house exposed,

timber rots away

like the memories

of a family who

long ago became

ghosts.

Lay my body in

the meadow where

dormice and starlings

rest and let me

sink into the earth

fade and seep beneath

and let my spirit

blend with ancient

peat.

Maybe if I burn away

the light will help

your heart rest and

let the dark that

follows

bring you

peace.