Soft and Away

So many have found a resting place below the birch canapes
The cottonwoods confess their gratitude
Yearly with a shower of new life

Unwilling to fight back are the dead after death.
Maybe there is something to that

Grass always proper
The whole place smells of lilac bushes
And wild roses

If you didn't know any better
one might forget
The skeletons dressed to the nines
On a journey to become whole again

These trees would be
hard pressed to remember
a time before their roots tasted bone.

Yet they grow
Tall and strong
as guardians
The keepers of the local cemetery
Without their majesty
This would be just another
Mass grave.