The Needled Path

Loblollies sway and 
magnolias wave
as we walk your ashes 
down the forest hill.
The trees applaud
your passing.
Surely your spirit 
dances among them now.
And doves that have 
taken to flight,  
circle the air above us
singing a mourning call.
They honor you.
And single file
we pad down
a needled path,
hold onto memories
nobody knew
would empty now.
Below, the river 
awaits you.

Richmond VA, USA.

Death, PoetryLee SowderComment