Do not Weep For Me

Do not stand at my grave and weep

I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints on snow,

I am the sun on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight. 

I am the soft stars that shine at night. 

Do not stand at my grave and cry, 

I am not there; I did not die.

Two people I know have passed out of the world recently. May they journey safe.
Picture by vjohnston
Poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye

Part of the Santa Fe Collection

The Call

The earth received the tears of the sky

  "Come" said the wind "You are needed".

The child answered

Her spirit a flame against sorrow

Joy was her name

Skagit Valley Tulip Festival Collection

Washington, USA

I was walking the wet fields with a friend taking pictures.  I saw this young girl and her brother not particularly interested in the fields of tulips but deliciously happy with the huge mud puddles that dominated the wide breaks between the fields.  Her mother and grandmother with great wisdom, allowed what all children know to be true, that a mud puddle is for stomping in.

Their joy was infectious and all pictures were taken with permission from her mother and grandmother.