29 May

Once she stood at this ancient cemetery 

and watched the mist crumble away like broken down plaster

tawny lichen creeping through cracks in antique gravestones

honeysuckle scrambling over stone walls

in moments of madness she sees

ladies in tasseled dresses and gentlemen in fine hats

the spirits of mourners trapped here in the chill of a summer evening

in her more lucid moments she understood

that there is nothing as diverse as death


  1. Now that is clever. Well done.

  2. I like the way you turn mourners into the spirits inhabiting the graveyard, and diversity applied to death.


Post a Comment

Deep peace of the running wave to you.
Deep peace of the flowing air to you.
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you.
Deep peace of the shining stars to you.
Deep peace of the gentle night to you.
Moon and stars pour their healing light on you

Popular posts from this blog

Abby and Hopie time

a basket from the farmer's market

On the table