These Bleak Reminders...

These bleak reminders
of mortality have haunted
me since my childhood:
Sheep skulls bleached by the sun on
verdant hills in June;
Deep blue summer skies turning
menacingly dark,
for no apparent reason,
and old museums:
obsessed with bloodshed and death.
I'd much rather be
pure spirit, than aching flesh.
I would like to soar
like wild birds, rather than be
weighed down by stern earth
with all its damned discontents.