LIFE
How the gravestone sees
Seeing all
Mossy, cracked, worn
by time, wind, rain, sun
and sorrow
Some days are full of visits.
I like those days!
Children run and hide behind me.
Family come and share stories with me.
Pardon my eavesdropping
Some little ones even run their fresh, curious fingers through the grooves of my engraving!
Arthur Thomas Doolittle 1837–1918. Model citizen, man of God, friend, brother, beloved son and father
No one visits ol’ Art much anymore.
He is barely legible after all.
And some days pass slowly, even for a rock like me.
Leaves turn from green to red to orange to yellow
and eventually to that gruesome falling brown
that never truly comes off.
Some are rainy and I wonder if I am not getting too
top-heavy. The soil is soft after all.
Some are clear-skied, but bitter cold
and the ice wedges its blades into me
swelling and forcing me apart.
