These are my reflections and reminiscenes while retuning home from the funeral of an aunt whom I had spent a great deal of time around growing up. She suffered a great deal in her last years due to cancer, which may make some of the analogies about a prison of flesh especially appropriate.

As I ride this bus

down a forgotten road

through forgotten towns,

I look back in fondness.

I ponder after burying the earthen shell

of a dearest aunt and saint.

We placed her prison of flesh into the ground,

while her soul went to sleep in Jesus.


A dear old saint

with auburn hair

and a ready laugh.

She worked hard on the farm

raising two kids

with a quiet old solider

who earned his trip back home.


A faithful woman,

to whom the Lord was good,

allowing just two weeks each summer

of rough and rude.


And laughter at

shrinking candy bars,

leaning corn cribs,

runaway calves

and how hot it was on the sand.


She wasn't much for sports,

but her grandson loved the Cubs.

and as I sit in this lonely depot,

the baggage man listens to the game

and I think of her.