What have you got to say for yourselves
as I sit here at the stoplight
and watch snow fall on your headstones?
I laugh to think that you could
be so kind, so solicitous,
so full of mirth and merry making
as the rest of us slog our way
through winter while you rest in peace.
Shall I be jealous of your peace?
Not in the least.
I, too, sleep--not in hallowed ground--
but in the sweet repose
of love's hot embers
that burn with endless blessings
of a heart set free.
Shall we dance in the moonlight at dawn?
Shall we clap to the trumpet's chill-blast?
I think we should hope for a circular tune
that we'll all sing together at last.
(Mount Hope Cemetery, located in Upstate New York.)