Soul Spreading

Ashes cast down a
Hillside tangled in
Leaves, dry battered
Stalks, vines withering,
Surely wild ones can
Sense another’s passing,
The presence of foreign
Bone and flesh, whispers
In the gathering of branches
Overhead, among trees are
Shining paths, the once
Singular voice as it rises
To join the ring around
A haloed moon.