Dream of my death

                              who led a basketball team
                              to the state tournament’
                              who led Bible study, in fact,
                              on Wednesday night,
                              having parred the 18th hole
                              of golf, was buried yesterday.

                              In my dream, later in the day,
                              as I napped, a death angel stole
                              into my dream.  She was a sight
                              to look upon. A class act,
                              a testament
                              to beauty, entering my dream,

                              Her voice, a bird song,
                              unheard in river hills,
                              as her fingers opened my chest,
                              and took out rhyme,
                              letting poetry flow
                              out like Old Seventy Creek,
                              cold and clear.

                              She pulled me near
                              her pale, hazy cheek.
                              I wanted to let go
                              of every word the time
                              she made me feel blessed
                              the way love fulfills,
                              but the whold death was wrong.

                              I opened my eyes.