A home with a river view,

settlers more than a few,

may I settle there the same

when my time is due.

What stories they would tell,

up in the Dellwood, or Allegany,

about the Coos River Valley below—

likely, more material for Coos River Echoes

of varied and full lives,

precious stories of long classics and short fads

full of dances, weddings, funerals,

summer home meals, clubs,

and, so tearfully too, early deaths

of some of their cherished lasses and lads.

A river as a road is not always safe

when lost in the creek,

or drowned by the river,

ponds, or swamp lakes.

So many sad tales mixed in with the good,

but carry on most did,

since they knew better than to early grave dig,

if nothing but for the sake

that a dutiful life is not a mistake.

They modeled taking the good with the bad,

knowing a life of significant enough length

no matter how glad,

it, too, will run over at times

with despair and remiss.

It seems none of us

know why we live this fate,

so I guess like them,

I am history bound

at nature’s matriculating gait.

Learning about these people,

at least I can wonder and relate

to the knowledge that life is always

illusive, and since we few here

cannot peer beyond death,

conceivably that is not by chance or mistake.

So, like them, I will honor the day

by trusting I will find this once child’s

time-lost peace and love

on the other side of a well-traveled journey.

On that silent cemetery overlook,

I will take comfort

that others have passed this way,

and they may someday welcome me home

with a good loved one’s smile

and a joyous, well-earned stay.