The Hardest Thing I had to do in 2017

The hardest thing I did this year,
was to stand up at your memorial service
and read one of your poems about nature.
I mean I’m a city boy, made of streets and brick,
reading a poem about the wisdom of trees.

Trees, my only concern with them
is when they drop their leaves
on my lawn.

But now I read your poem,
a poem whose words grew and blossomed
from the earth that nourished them.
Words to me that feel like
pebbles in my mouth.

Afterwards when I get home,
I take the paper with your words and
bury them under the tree,
at the bottom of my garden.

I thought you might appreciate it.