Mary Ahearn

Dried Grass

At the cemetery a recent mowing has scattered dried grass over the gravestones. A careless, hurried, but well-intentioned chore with all the busyness of day to day life -life oblivious to the repose and stillness of those beyond the caring.

Kneeling, I slowly clean the stone and refresh the flowers. Upon rising my knees hold the impression of the grass right down to the bone.

shadows of birds cross the road
before me