Nancy Scott McBride’s most recent poem to appear here was “Sitting With My Father” (March 2018). 

Re-Cycling
By Nancy Scott McBride

You can do it with almost anything,
not just paper, plastic or glass.
When we moved south, I found part of my
estranged daughter in the choir director at church,
and another part in the owner of a health-food store.

There’s a “free-shack” at the town dump
where people leave what they no longer want
and walk away with something they do.
Mother’s old chafing dish becomes a
brand-new crock-pot.
Same idea, different form.

When our old cat died,
another one appeared out of nowhere.
For days she stood outside in the rain
until we finally took her in, our beloved
“Kitty” having come back home to us.

They say that pretty jewelry can be made
from a loved one’s ashes.
As for me, I’d like a “green” burial.
Just lay me in the ground and maybe I’ll
come up as a hybrid-tea rose.

Have you ever noticed that there’s about an equal
amount of living and dying going on in a forest?
Maybe Earth is just one big recycling center, and
maybe that’s the true meaning of “life after death.”
Or maybe there’s no death at all, just life
re-inventing itself over and over and over. . . .