This poem is dedicated to the late Welsh poet Nigel Jenkins.

You wrote your Death

On the periphery of Life

Unknowing that Death writes itself

In leaves that are turned over and over,

Even the lucky-leaved clover

Planted face-first into the ground, soil-dwelling forever

In that eternal Autumn

Whose blood-red leaves never ceased to fall

Caught on the wind in flight

As Death catches us all

You chose to observe from such great heights

And we watched you look down from above

Your best lesson to us in life that

The next greatest to Death is Love