In the Graveyard

There aren't any signs of spring here. Many stones are crooked, faded markers marking time until eternity. So that'll be awhile, I suppose. Families reunited under the ground. Lavina the wife of a captain. Mother, Father, side by side, with no sign of children in their plot. What about the guy who owns the fenced-in obelisk? Was he a guarded loner before the afterlife? Maybe he prefers leaves to roots. I stumble over brambles and fumble with the aperature, looking at the sky. blue sky. elsewhere crocuses are coming up. It's about that time of year. Renewal for those of us lucky enough to live. I breathe in the brisk April morning. Again.