When the great diving beetle dives
and the rays of the sun illuminate
the muddy water of the pond
which reflects the trees
and the clouds slowly drifting by

When the whirligig beetles
float across the surface of the water
as shining miniature submarines

When the fire-bellied toad calls
and the cuckoo answers
and the bees come to drink on the moss

When behind me the woodpecker says ‘keep’
and sparrows and goldfinches all around
softly twitter and sing

When the green marsh frog
rises to the surface
and with its tiny claws
clings to the stem of a reed,
waiting for its prey

When the barn swallow
skims the water to drink,
swiftly dipping its beak

When all this beauty unfolds around me,
then why these tears?

Is it because I am on the brink of paradise,
but one step away from death?

But no, this can’t be
because I am already there
I must have passed away unknowingly

But if this is death,
to fade away so smoothly,
so slowly becoming one with nature,
to be food for the butterflies
which come to feed on my rotting corpse,
then death is not so bad, is it?

Or is it because I know
part of me will stay here,
will stay behind
and I will be torn apart when I leave?

But no, it is not that

This is not grief
It is but bliss and gratitude
for being here

In this wondrous, vibrant world,
drinking the pure essence of life,
and to be, to be so very much alive

Farm Lator, June 15, 2012