From back here
the headstones are anonymous.
They could be anything;
birdbaths,
garden gnomes,
scattered thickly under the trees.
Another unseasonably warm day.
The sun shines through the bare branches
where the vultures roost
and the squirrels play.
The columns on top Red Hill
are glowing in the winter light.
The sky is blue,
melting from opal and pearl
to robin's egg, china, cobalt,
and indigo.
I'm too old to skip
so I jog a few steps.
I'm too tame to howl
so I smile.
--Sappho
the headstones are anonymous.
They could be anything;
birdbaths,
garden gnomes,
scattered thickly under the trees.
Another unseasonably warm day.
The sun shines through the bare branches
where the vultures roost
and the squirrels play.
The columns on top Red Hill
are glowing in the winter light.
The sky is blue,
melting from opal and pearl
to robin's egg, china, cobalt,
and indigo.
I'm too old to skip
so I jog a few steps.
I'm too tame to howl
so I smile.
--Sappho
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