"Look for Me Under Your Bootsoles"

I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun,
I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags.

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.

Walt Whitman, Song of Myself: The First and Final Editions of the Great American Poem (2011-02-04)

• death
• poetry