With much singing and joyful exclamations of trumpets
Shall we dance and frolic upon the soft, unpacked
Topsoil of your grave
Harpsichords and lute, cymbals and bells
Flickering firelight and painted faces
Of forest satyr and giddy river sprite
Those who mourn your loss
Shall run the risk of joining you
In your new home
2014: Oh, how I wish I could remember about whom I wrote this.