Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Autumn at Woodlawn

The cemetery hill
emblazoned with rust
a blanket of leaves tucked under headboard stones
canopies of gold like laurel for old warriors
blood-red leaves beside the mausoleum

And all I think of now
is the unfamiliar shade of green
in the flowing, flowing stream

3 comments:

Jack said...

Decaying and violence and death...hugely contrasted with living green.

I pictured gravestones in marching formation.

the walking man said...

Yes sir by the ime you get there no more familiarity with Olive drab or Jungle Cammo.

Hannah Stephenson said...

flowing and flown....there's that Bishop poem that ends on that line.

"Headboard stones" is just right.