At the Cemetery

We think of this as a place
for birdwatching and taking nature walks,
never considering the dead —
they’re in heaven, aren’t they?
So this burial doesn’t move us
as we stalk vireos, weeping beeches.

We friends, in our 90s or almost —
hear the words of the one of us now dead:
Did any of us sixty years ago
think we’d live so long?
We young immortals.

Robert A. Davies has published in recent years largely online. He has been writing poems seriously since 1969. He has published Timber, Tracks in Oregon, Melons and Mendelssohn, and Bluff Hollow. He was co-editor of Mr. Cogito for about 20 years. He has recently appeared in Dissident Voice and Windfall He can be reached at: Read other articles by Robert A..