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."