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 sunlight 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.
by Mary Elizabeth Frye
For my father, who is all things. You are here and not there.
In the simple things I love so much…thanks to you.
(But hey…do you think you could tone down the northeast wind a knot or two? And while you’re at it, this shiny diamond, snowy goodness thing you got going on is pretty and all…but could you ratchet back the swirling white stuff too…it is freaking CoLd!)
I love you Dad
Always and Forever