Cenotaph

My death wilted in disorder

A little note; a little chatter

Could not find the chit

Chapter in the crypt

Right road but so wrong

Country cemeteries paced in song

Inscriptions on skulls of what used to be

What we left of you and me

Dictionary dates I can’t find

Versification going blind

Misspelling of what used to be

Foreign names sound the key

Earth, grass, a good strong tree

Pre-Cambrian that’s a hoot

Mammogram of a mound  an offshoot

People loosend often laugh

Old man’s beard a new birdbath

Swamp spilling between us all

Deer and wolves that once called

Bluffs and beaded sand

Gentle lift of the land

An eye, a foot, a hand a nook

That was all it took

You were here;  I was there

Not made for wear

Pale grey crumbling rock

Kame Moraines were we sat

Combs of ice through a heart

Split domains until the crop came

Crowd of light

Little by little we start again