By Jeremiah D. (Jerry), Clements
Sing no mournful songs for me,
Its time for celebration--can't you see?
I've lived my life, very long and well,
Come join with me and help me tell
Sojourners to open their eyes to all around
And see the napping beauty on the gound.
Look carefully at my well crafted frame,
Run of time and sun enables it to proclaim
A change from leaf to beautiful piece of art
With more varied colors than on any chart.
My dried veins with water once flowing
Now closed, as is the season of growing.
I am just one of millions lying around
Waiting my turn to make solid the ground.
Meantime my colors add beauty and grace
To nature's quilt as it covers the place.
Some may see and make note as finders
While others may well have worn blinders.
It matters little to me, I've done my best,
I served my master with loyalty and zest,
I helped bring him much nourishing vim
From his roots to the tip of each limb.
It was good work and my master was kind,
I'll forever keep him lovingly in mind.
Its to the harvest, the feast and the gore, Innards of the tiny creatures I'll explore,
They'll chew me up, search for food to enjoy
And extrude the rest, the forest to employ.
Some,with fancy words, call it reincarnation.
For me, I'm just lost in the translation.
Sing no mournful songs for me,
Its time for celebration--can't you see?
I've lived my life, very long and well,
Come join with me and help me tell
Sojourners to open their eyes to all around
And see the napping beauty on the gound.
Look carefully at my well crafted frame,
Run of time and sun enables it to proclaim
A change from leaf to beautiful piece of art
With more varied colors than on any chart.
My dried veins with water once flowing
Now closed, as is the season of growing.
I am just one of millions lying around
Waiting my turn to make solid the ground.
Meantime my colors add beauty and grace
To nature's quilt as it covers the place.
Some may see and make note as finders
While others may well have worn blinders.
It matters little to me, I've done my best,
I served my master with loyalty and zest,
I helped bring him much nourishing vim
From his roots to the tip of each limb.
It was good work and my master was kind,
I'll forever keep him lovingly in mind.
Its to the harvest, the feast and the gore, Innards of the tiny creatures I'll explore,
They'll chew me up, search for food to enjoy
And extrude the rest, the forest to employ.
Some,with fancy words, call it reincarnation.
For me, I'm just lost in the translation.
