There is too much and not enough I could say about yesterday’s funeral for WPR, a man each and every one of us was honoured to know. The church was packed. It was standing room only. So instead of trying to capture what will always be a dedication to greatness, I’ll post the poem I wrote, and read, for him, and leave it at that. Here it is.

A Prayer for WPR

I imagined you in the sunny downstairs room,

A light-filled view of fields,

A memory of dirt beneath your feet,

The sense of soil ingrained in fingernails

Of a land you knew, that loved you.

I imagined you complete, this abundant life

Exhaled, the oaks and beeches

Waving in the breeze of your departure

The rivers splashing their goodbye,

Kestrels lifting to the sky as you breathed out.

And the honeybees will kiss around your grave,

The lambs will bleat your prayers into the sun.

The earth will hold our hands and speak your name,

The trees will stand for all you have become.

Eleanor

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