I must approach a difficult question.
I must consider what is be done
When the clock winds down, the buzzer sounds
The checkered flag waves in the breeze
The bottom of the ninth, the count is 3 & 2
And the game is over.
Unpleasant possibilities and no escaping that certainty.
No lead-lined box nor stone, unless some great, alluvial rock
Hidden in the woods, known only to thee and me.
My secret desire is to lie beneath a strong young apple tree
And let nature take its course.
I’m intrigued that, as I feed and nurture the fruit,
Returning all things from whence they came,
That future generations will taste and enjoy
What nature and I will provide.
Not any time soon,
but there have been enough near misses
That I give the topic some serious consideration.