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Streaming Time

My thanks to a rare books librarian who tweeted me her thoughts on walking Lakeview Cemetery in  the lush and verdant green of early May.   Her tweets inspired this poem.

Streaming Time 


A field of polished stones
cushioned in spring grass;
a blanket of renewal pulled
up snug against eternity.
These people are not mine.
But I am reminded of those
now gone; their fragile bones
lying quiet under Prairie corn
or under other stones – an age,
an ocean or a continent away.
In this garden, lush with memory,
the river of the grassy blanket runs
between the stones.   These lives
have had their moment in the stream
of time – and now it’s ours.



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