Extended Eulogy For Hussein Alasdair McGaw, 17 (Obsequies)                                                                                                                                                                                   
Who never actively laidabout’s now laid hereabouts
for the time nonbeing, for nonstop non-ness.
For the duration of the rest of duration
he’ll be a few metres from the bluebelled, foxgloved 
foot of a treehousechurch balcony, where handrail 
the bereaved squeeze branches into silverbirch, 
sweetchestnut canopy. Nitrogencycle, 
lowlargefreshgrey Norfolksky’s pee will
oblige living ribbons with ribs of chlorophyligree
to robe his plot rapidleafy. Modest Huss’d approve
of how the dead here are unintrusive,
but their putrescence pretty accomplished,
powering the picturesque.
Woodland’s honourable, serene as Hussein
would be if British monomonth of monolithic mizzle
was bluemoonshinevendor to nearby nettles,
not mindit a miffle 
if stingers pluvially nectared spread
out like sots and nabbed his name
(tho’ pricklers’d be peculiarly noble nettles
thru his proximity e’en uncredited, evenwhen
forests reclaim remoteness).

But mourners amongst mossy engravedposts 
are close, at most, to the least of him,
least he’ll everbe having been, and been someone
of someoneoff human inhavenning of better Being.
He had the sort of soul that should happen,
yet’s so special the cosmos’ll clockoff before
it comes up with a couple.

Who felled lies and never liedwhen or laidwhere he fell
is now lowered into verticallylandlocked rest,
Huss’s first and last rest in proud woods off Watton Rd.,
tho’ we lay the least of him to rus,
the most of him has passed. But his most is more
than this least can mortally mumchance,
cozwhen it’s the rotten world’s
loss, us lagging living whose lifeline’s snagged on his death,
then Hussein’s no more No More than any of the openended
halfcentury of places his presence mended,
halftwentury o’ mates’ and strangers’ scrapes
his presenceofmind fendedoffforthem.
Whether flybynight or myhowyearsflyby friends,
whom his mending zen mended will not have forgotten.

None need lipread a leaden lastwish from a fav
photo fretfully thumbed, we who knew him know
the wish he livedby’s the 1,
pax orbis terrarum