My good boy has been gone for over a year. Although, at times, they seemed like a chore, I do miss our walks. Today, I came across these words, that I had written, a few years ago.
Cemetery Walk
After the dinner dishes have been cleared,
my movements become studied.
I check the clock and tell him,
“It’s not time yet”.
At the hour of illumination,
when the bell tower strikes 2 fingers shy of both hands,
we pass sleeping settlers, friends, acquaintances
and infamous locals.
I read their full names and calculate the age of their joys and sorrows.
We pause at the thick, wooded, overlook that rolls to a waters edge.
We listen and take in what the season allows and disallows.
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