Beneath this stone, reduced to bone, your earthly presence lies. Upon this hill you linger still under these cirrus skies. Incanting charms, the seas shawled arms forever fall and rise. Though earths embrace may leave no trace to succor such surmise, To feel you near when I am here a biding love implies. TENANT AT WILL. 1994. Louise Wheeler (1912 2005)
Selection printed in her memory. Used by permission.