For Clifford Ernest Polland
May 21, 1952–March 18, 2001

On this day of green, of imminent spring,
of green beer and drunken celebration,
I think of you on that terribly ordinary day,
setting off to eat corned beef and cabbage
with your siblings,
me planning to see you the next day,
none of us having any idea what was soon
to happen.

As it should be.

We should all live fully to the end,
death sneaking up on us like a little one we love
tapping us on the shoulder, smiling,
gently saying, Come with me.

And we do.

We should drink that last green beer
not knowing.
We should hug those we love
and say goodbye as though we mean it.