Easter Morn at the Cemetary

Saturday, 28 Feb 2015

Ten acres of refrigerated rural soil,Thickly frosted in Easter's pre-dawn;Subterranean saints, quilted in earth,Smile warmly at the band of believers,Huddled above to catcall verses of victory,Into the mocking mien of chiseled stones;The rocky trophies of mortality's coup,North, south, west, and east of Eden. Wizened hags, pimpled teens, snotty-nosed kids,All dust to dust, prey of the funereal broom,Swept beneath this rug of grass and weeds.Most forgotten by man, yet all remembered,By ...

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