Immortal Memory

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tribute to tim murphy

John Beaton

Immortal Memory

 

      For Tim Murphy

      It comes to pass that Kronos turns
      all flesh to clay or ash for urns,
      that every beating heart adjourns
      in disrepair.
      You weren’t exempt, you fan of Burns
      with your red hair.

      To win your keep from prairie soil
      you bet your yearly farming toil
      on thunderheads you hoped would roil
      and shed their rain
      on yield more dear than . . .
      . . . . . . .
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