At Mt. Lebanon Cemetery snow
covered the stones. Footprints
told their familiar story over and over.
This afternoon we stood
in half circles holding hands
like strings of paper silhouettes unfolded.
In the parking lot, cars would come and go,
unsettling the melting snow that puddles now.
Over the newest graves
the earth, too, inches down.
I'll plant daffodils beside her stone.
That way I'll know
something will bloom each March
when no one kneels at her bones.
When no one kneels
will something bloom? Each March
I will know.
And daffodils too will die beside her stone.
Today the earth inches down
over the newest graves—
unsettling. Melted snow puddles now.
In the parking lot, cars come and go,
dark silhouettes unfolding.
In half circles holding hands
we stood this afternoon,
our familiar story over and over
covering the stones, our footprints,
the cemetery, the snow.