Picnic at a cemetery under sycamore maples

Scarcely scattered pine trees
furrowed their branches in the wind as eyebrows.

roosting above coffins,
candles,
and faded fake flowers.

blue skies blotted with sponges of white
radiate over yellow warm sun rays beaming down,
beating back the tears.

dried up Lynnhurst lake sat nearby,
staring,
starving.
crunching leaves under my feet in the basin,
breaking twigs on wet snake holes.

walking on the grass today,i could just as easily be buried below tonight.