Epitaph

Do not bury me

far from the leaves of the forest floor.

Let me decay quickly                                           

to live on in the lives of others.


Lay me down among the trees 

at the headwaters of Basin Run,

the place I took most from.


Let birds tear me asunder,

called to the perfume of decay

that rides the rare wind

touching the heart of the forest.


Disentangle me bacteria, into minerals,

so that I can nourish the plants, 

repaying my debt to the Menhaden.


Let the rain run me deep into the soil,

so that some tulip poplar

may find, lift and form me 

into a gigantic flower

to be loved by a bumblebee

in search of nectar.


And should I escape the hunger of the forest

and run with the water toward the sea,

may the oysters make good on my remains.