Woodlawn

shadows looming over the land

from a towering arborous hand

this, the dark

darting in and out

of the light

beckons beyond

the iron gate

and paths call out

flowing over

the curves of the plots

as if the souls

lay not in earthen grave

but in some very patient

or very obstinate

watery wave

and the monuments

to life continuum

are not the rooted

solid posterity

but simple stones

death has thrown

to skip through

the cemetery