On the Death of a Friend

by revbillcook

The blue-green field that lay across

the way is divided by rows of barren trees:

a peach orchard, perfectly trimmed. The frost

hasn’t settled in yet gone are the thick leaves.

Your grave lay open, your casket suspended, unreal.

Family and friends gather, stand together;

the long exhausting wait is over. All feel

the slow turn of something that can never

return. The evening light recedes across

the green ascending field and sleeping orchard

casting long shadows. But nothing is lost

forever, we hope, and as we walk toward

the long row of parked cars, speechless,

an autumn breeze carries the scent of peaches.

– Bill Cook