Olive Branch Cem.

down dirt and gravel
heavy cloud of dust
dissipates in the wind
a field of stones rises
from the dip in the
wide thirsty stretch

abandoned to hellfire
summers and temps
close to what the
preachers tried to sell,
she lays in her box
for time continuum

she never was one to
sit and twiddle thumbs
there was too little time
to ponder, savor or rhyme
yet now time is her
only possession here

under the swaying grass
and passing leaps of deer
as fast as the Model A
her foot used to floor
down dirt and gravel
with a heavy cloud of dust

her neighbors in their own
the boxes marked by stone
with lives of constant change
starting with a crying birth
ending in the weeping earth
more laughter than the pain

the constant was the change
the storms with their wind
that stole away her soul
in a dark thunderous night
she now joins the chorus
that whispers in the wind:

"Here I'll stay and roots I'll be.

You go on and be the tree."

Your arms

your breath
the lullaby
good night
sweet dreams

your chest
the tide
ebb and flow
the lullaby

your arms
the warmth
melting pain
draining fret

your life
the tide
ebb and flow
through your arms

your heart
the drum
beating fast
idles slow

your arms
the tree
catches me
holding us

your words
the net
cast to sea
from the tide

your arms
the last
flowing tide
holding us