To the ephemeral beaver on the mural that is no longer there! Today was his last day of existence before the city covered him up on my birthday a year ago tomorrow. The ill-fated beaver never knew it was his last day. Of course we mushrooms had no idea either. This was his last moment in the sun before thick paint covered him into oblivion. I’m reminded of this….
For the Anniversary of My Death
BY W. S. MERWIN Every year without knowing it I have passed the dayWhen the last fires will wave to me
And the silence will set out
Tireless traveler
Like the beam of a lightless star
Then I will no longer
Find myself in life as in a strange garment
Surprised at the earth
And the love of one woman
And the shamelessness of men
As today writing after three days of rain
Hearing the wren sing and the falling cease
And bowing not knowing to what
