In Memory Of John Lundsten

I'm remembering my Uncle John,
Finally released from his hospital bed
In Oregon, now embarked upon
His journey through a distant, ethereal world --
He can surely look back, perhaps amazed
At where it all began, in the Minnesota
Fields, where he was born and raised,
And learned to lift his wise-gentle eyes
Up to the songs and fluttering wings,
The small feathered miracles of life,
He came to love, along with other things:
Family, friends, and nature -- now he's in
A better place, where a feathered angel sings.