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The smoke of my own breath, Echoes, ripples, buzz'd whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine, My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs, The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore and dark-color'd sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn, The sound of the belch'd words of my voice loos'd to the eddies of the wind, A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms, The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag, The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and hill-sides, The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun. 3 I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the beginning and the end, But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.
There was never any more inception than there is now, Nor any more youth or age than there is now, And will never be any more perfection than there is now, Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.
Katahdin from afar and I’ve always wanted to venture the top.
He is survived by his two daughters, Gloria Peterson and Cheryl Goodall; his grandsons, Daniel (Jessica) Goodall, and Christopher (Luella) Goodall; and 3 great-grandchildren, Aliza, Xandria, and William Goodall.
Billy was preceded in death by his wife, Beverly, and brother, Bobby.
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Billy Dwayne Peterson was born in Audubon, IA, on November 8, 1930, to Carl Peterson and Minnie Thygesen.