Between the branches

My grandson wants to bury our black lab’s ashes 

       in the west corner of our yard 

under the Manzanita tree that leans on

       his bedroom window 

until he remembers we plan to move to Alameda 

      and worries we'd have to dig her up 

           and bury her in our new yard.  

I propose that Ruby would want to stay

      at the home she spent her life in,

          her bones nurturing the tree that shades

               the room she shared with you. 

And you know, I add, that tree stands high 

      above the house

          and so all of the San Francisco Bay

               can be enjoyed from every branch 

and when we take our walks along the shore, 

      we will be in the tree’s view 

          and it will always find us 

               if we want to be found.  

I would love that. I want to be found,

     my grandson says and because he is only 8, 

          we hug with extravagant affection.