Blame this on the radio show New Letters on the Air. I'm not feeling particularly morose, really!
Visiting the Stone
It rained last week, but the grass is dry,
Faded, almost white, waiting
For another season, or
Better, artificial rain.
It's thick and sharp, hardy,
Ugly grass, meant largely
To keep the dirt in place.
The stone is dry and clean.
No mud, no blown dirt,
Hardly any leaves of grass cover
Name or dates, notes or masks,
Scroll or colorless rose, or
The nine engraved words, sung
So many years ago.
I sing them again, softly,
As she did before she died.
I don't talk to her, except
For an embarrassed "Hi, Mom."
I pause, and get
The long-handled-brush
From the back of the car.
I brush away the few stray leaves,
And then I drive away.
KFB, 1/26/05
"So don't be sad; there's nothing more to say."--RAJ, circa 1970
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4 comments:
As far as the strings are concerned... I'd never thought of it that way before. But Reckon so. :) L.
My silly small computer screen! I can't read the words except for the last which I think say "...there's nothing left to say". When you talk about your Mom a certain gentleness is apparent.
Beautiful....
V
ah, I can see the words.
V
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