Burying Ground

Down the road, around the hill

Past the dust and railroad tracks

Where the dark woods whisper

She is gone

Where the water runs unseen

Faded leaves are rustling

The deadfall snapping

She is gone

A carpet of pine needles spreads to the burying ground

Petals scatter, seasons change

She is dust, she is no more

Only the ground remembers

She is dust, she is no more

"This is the Hour of Lead

Remembered, if outlived,

As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow

First Chill then Stupor then the letting go"