the toes of my shoes grow wet with dew as i make my way across the green to visit
faded flowers linger nearby, their naked stems standing stiff and still, like watchmen amid the carved stones
above the ashes, between the stones, the freshly turned earth and grassy mounds…are comforters for the dead…
below, bits of clay, fashioned by unseen hands into those we loved and cherished, who cherished us…now empty husks awaiting their rising…lie deep in the cool, damp earth
2020©️
lingering son 