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(Lewinsville Churchyard, November 2010)

Digging is hard when one’s two

and thick-mittened, and wet bitter wind

plasters leaves on the stones.

Yet you, down-hooded, seeing sandbox

in shovels, ran to slide clods

on his square cherry box.

So I knelt to help you:

four hands cradling space

where the pulse slows

by a shallow hole

holding a single red

ceremonial rose.

Version first published in Mizmor L'David [Melody of King David]: 2017 Anthology (Poetica, 2017)

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