November is sweet, sunshine through bare trees, dry brown
and fungus-free leaves companionably visiting among the
dead
as I did yesterday our town's small graveyard military dads
who recently died lie under polished stones embossed
with actual photos of themselves and their wives
flowers and plastic totems within a miniature picket fence
overflowing with the emotions love and grieving of the
living
beside or not far from simple wafer-thin old moss-covered
stones on which I could not read the names.
Such peace I realized which may be found around any rock or
tree has escaped me while I pursue my particular
happiness and our particular war,
and such a blessing awaits me, too.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 7:20 AM UTC
November is sweet, sunshine through bare trees, dry brown
and fungus-free leaves companionably visiting among the
dead
as I did yesterday our town's small graveyard military dads
who recently died lie under polished stones embossed
with actual photos of themselves and their wives
flowers and plastic totems within a miniature picket fence
overflowing with the emotions love and grieving of the
living
beside or not far from simple wafer-thin old moss-covered
stones on which I could not read the names.
Such peace I realized which may be found around any rock or
tree has escaped me while I pursue my particular
happiness and our particular war,
and such a blessing awaits me, too.
