Redefining Death

We redefined death, that winter of 93,
so tired of caskets and somber ceremony,
the coldest in recent memory.

In her hospital bed
we hacked at tubes entwined,
choking vines.
Then stole her away,
pre-grave robbers,
in the middle of the day.

Out the window and down the escape,
railing, so stiff and cool to touch.
In a wood panel wagon we drove the day.
The rutted dirt road bounced her high,
enjoying the ride through dormant fields.

We lay her in a bale beside the barren orchard,
touched by shadow from the empty silo of evening’s final hour.
One spark coaxed a blaze of orange western sky.
Mist from our gaping mouths mingled with ashes in the updraft,
to descend in swirling circles, back to fertile earth.

To germinate,
the coming spring,
begin again.