Head full of sermons, mouth full of spiders.

I.
We will see no more
the mown grass fallen behind him
on the still ridges before night,
or hear him laughing in the crop rows,
or know the order of his delight.

Though the green fields are my delight,
elegy is my fate. I have come to be
survivor of many and of much
that I love, that I won’t live to see
come again into this world.

Things that mattered to me once
won’t matter any more,
for I have left the safe shore
where magnificence of art
could suffice my heart.

2.
In the day of his work
when the grace of the world
was upon him, he made his way,
not turning back or looking aside,
light in his stride.

Now may the grace of death
be upon him, his spirit blessed
in deep song of the world
and the stars turning, the seasons
returning, and lost rest.

-Wendell Berry

My grandfather was 89 years old. He left this world for the next one while the pastor read Psalm 23.