No medals for those who die on Site,
Just silence, till the Ambulance has gone,
Then, disconnecting like a crumpled kite,
The twisted scaffold, he had fallen from.

No more teasing his taste in Sandwiches,
Or Football team, that lost, again,
Just back to gable-ends steep pitches
As bosses begin, to shift the blame.

After the Funeral, we drank to him,
He, who was one of us,
Those who risk life and limb,
Gathered tightly, into a nucleus.

Hushed, we lifted Whiskey and Ales,
To a life, that rang with hammers and nails.

Kiss me goodnight at the end of our time.
I don't want to end with a beauty cryin'.
So kiss me goodnight as the world crashes down,
At least our days will have been capped with a crown.

Awake to a slowly beating drum
morning meditation drifting up the hill
in the garden, tiny birds add sweet highs
tuneless ravens, the bass undertone
trees whisper ancient lyrics
on the passing breeze.

We stroll the Path of Philosophy
through massive wooden gates
into carefully sculpted gardens
exploring the endless number
of temples dotting Kyoto
each more lovely than the last.

Quiet Nanzen-Ji
is where I feel the most
following worship worn
steps to a cave-shrine
heady with wet
and incense

we are purified
by waterfall spray
before returning
the way we came
voices hushed
buoyed by eternity’s hand.

The hotel lobby is filled
with crimson and saffron
glistening heads and broad smiles
from monks gathered there
we bow to each other and are one
may it never be forgotten

revelers arrive by busload
for hanami, cherry blossom viewing
beneath a revered tree
decked out in pink splendor  
lit from below to radiate
surreal, internal light

we sample Kobe yakitori
soba and corn
grilled over open flame
as we flow
through the smiling
celebratory crowd

we savor
what is transitory
as sparks
and blossoms whirl
settling on
our hair and skin.