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.
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