Into the dark and wide Des Moines
I pour you, ashes fogging shallows.
A moccasin in the rushes close by,
Black glisten, still as stone.
Birdsong blesses the air,
Bridge a silent acolyte.
You rode ponies not far from here,
Tamed litters of kittens,
Wept leaving at summer’s end.
Now you bloom again to the surface,
Your last thank you, becoming
This river, this soil, this cloud-piled sky.

(First published in slightly different form as part of the Hidden Peak Press Artist Spotlight, July 7, 2022. Thanks to Poetry Editor Kyle Newman.)