Country Cemetery

It is the way the light Filters through the gum trees The way the rows of graves Reflect a certain reverence The way the crosses Cast a shadow The way the magpies Drink from the puddles In those shadows The way people dress Formally and respectful The way young children Restlessly wrestle with The somber atmosphere The way we reflect on A life that might have been The way the pastor Shoes the friendly flies That makes it what it is. In the soft wind And the cool breeze Our prayers rise up To resonate eternally And life goes on As we walk stronger Into the future Of whatever comes our way.