Moon rises full faced,
Crests the hill, sun wanes.
Sounds of dusk.
Pheasants call, owl hoots.
Pack of coyotes yelping in glee.
A type of peace radiates from creation.
His presence is evident.
Warmth of favorite sweatshirt.
Surrounds, envelopes in peace.
Finally the resting place after four and half years.
Grueling journey with sweetness at the pause.
Not the same person started as.
Started as two dimensional cutout.
Now three dimensional and alive.
About the Author: Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.