National Poetry Month

The Dead

The dead are always looking down on us, they say,
while we are putting on our shoes or making a sandwich,
they are looking down through the glass-bottom boats of heaven
as they row themselves slowly through eternity

They watch the tops of our heads moving below on earth,
and when we lie down in a field or on a couch,
drugged perhaps by the hum of a warm afternoon,
they think we are looking back at them,

which makes them lift their oars and fall
silent and wait, like parents, for us to close our eyes.

~~Billy Collins, Sailing Alone Around the Room, 2001

NPR and Sharon reminded me that April is National Poetry
Month. So, naturally, this would be a great reason to post
another of my favorite Billy Collins poems. I often wonder if

my grandfather, who recently passed away, is aware of my

life’s activities. A very high tech guy for the age of 93, he was

computer savvy far beyond my capabilities. He would have

very much enjoyed my blog and would have passed on little

tidbits of family info for me to post. I like to think that he

does read, and is smiling.