Here is the last of three poems Richard sent us. This one stands by itself in attribute to the solitude it describes. Winter can make all places seem lonelier, but especially the one described here. We suppose annual breaks from the visitations of seasonal friends are just another part of the cycle.
Regardless,
Enjoy:
___
Walking This Cemetery at the Edge of Town
The winter rain drips
from the bare arms
of these sentry oaks
while the moon threads
its light through needles
of western pine.
These markers so old
that even the dates
have disappeared
like memories
the dead possess
for the living
that went on before
them. Why, like monks,
do the weeds overgrowing
the headstones maintain
their orders of silence?
Out here you’d like
to think that the lilies
on the far edge
of the untended pond
would resurrect
themselves into
spring and perhaps
crickets that linger
in afternoon heat
would have something
to say on the matter.
But nothing remains
save for these grave
stones and the dead
leaves, mute wherever
they have come to reside.
___
Richard is a former professor of educational psychology and special education at Miami University in Ohio now residing in California. His poems and stories have appeared in numerous literary journals in the United States and internationally in Canada, Australia, Europe, and Asia. His poems have been nominated for the Pushcart prize and two poems recently appeared in Realms of the Mothers: The First Decade of Dos Madres Press. His latest book of poems will be forthcoming from Unsolicited Press in 2019. Richard’s webpage and blog may be found at richardluftig.com