Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Sunday, June 3, 2012

river stones

by Linda M. Crate

white fog engulfs the land,
no tittering birdsong nests
itself in my ears this morning —
I, too, am swallowed by it

as I walk into the golden field;

the babbling brook laps white
water into it’s rivulets, the
white stones that mark it are
the funerals of deer, the grey

ones are the tombs of the living.

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