I Wandered Gaily Through the Wood

I wandered gaily through the wood
And heard the chipper chirps of birds
I came to where a gravestone stood
And squinted, trying to read the words.
His years were marked, some eighty-two
“A life well lived upon this earth”
Before he lost his rosy rue
And hastened to his place of birth.
I tried imag’ning who he’d been
Whom he’d loved, what he’d made,
What thing he called his greatest sin,
The games that as a youth he played.
Why laid he were, among the roots
And needled, pine-filled floor?
Often tramped on by the boots
Which one must take off at the door.
Was this his home, this stygian lair
Where foxes roam and make their nests
The sacred realm of grizzly bear
And Mother Nature’s nourishing breasts.
The thought which then came to my head
Standing at this grave, the same
Was that there’s one part I’d not read –
The long dead, rotting corpse’s name.
I bent down at the knees so I could read
The name of him on whom the worms did feed
I read and feared that death was close behind
On seeing that the chiseled name was mine.