The Little Graveyard

The Little Graveyard Going Home


You can't see the top of the hill
when you are riding along the bumpy road.

The first time I passed the graveyard
my foot punched the gas.

From the corner of my eye the angels
erected their wings into the wind, unaffected.

When you go downhill you can just coast.

The second time I passed the graveyard
I thought about all of the secrets being held.

I don't mind seeing the stones
because they are all signs of love
as I return home to those I love.

The third time I passed the graveyard
I waved.

Today the stones were wet from rain
and probably nobody would visit,
but the grass is greener and the flowers are happy.