I’ve long been possessed
by the pleasing notion
of having my ashes
tossed in the ocean,
to allow my soul,
then shriven of sin
to surf on the waves,
race with a dolphin.
But a thoughtful addendum has lately been added:
to launch my ashes in a slow flowing stream
so to skim river rocks, squeeze narrow locks,
fan out wide over sandy channels,
slide into the sea on a rippling tide.
Else
to sudden the shock
of dark depths
and great whales.

Much better unhook
in a babbling brook.