When it’s cool and sunny,
heading toward the end of the year.
Everything in place. Having had
one last vanilla shake, eyes closed,
relishing the creaminess going down
a parched throat.

Trees still releasing the last
of their bounty, some already
bare, their slender limbs reaching,
always, for the blue.

It’s a good day to die, as our friend
the obituary writer used to say when he
had lots of space to fill in the newspaper,
so he could give people a really good
sendoff.

Just look at this world—
calm and bright, clean and light.
And look, just there, through the veil,
you can see the smiling eyes
of those who wait,

friendly beings, who, on a slight
whoosh of breeze, extend their arms,
waving, who look so happy to greet you.