photo_camera by Tom Skarbek-Wazynski
I am running late
but I pause on the slow road
by the cemetery
listen to the silence of
death to which all but a few
birds give respect
beyond the birdsong
the silence is tall
it waits in its seconds
in its minutes
in its days and years
it waits for us
our footprints grow lighter
upon the earth as
the earth grows heavier
the gravestones converse
amongst themselves in
a perfect soundless language
the wind blows by like a finger
pointing the wrong way.