cemetery Birth and death are bookends

I see that here.

A nursery of growing trees

In ordered rows

Conjures images of gravestones

A cemetery in my mind.


I see the wildflowers cast around them

And reminisce of florists and bouquets

Placed on the graves of those I’ve loved.


Not as morbid as it sounds

Just a passing note

That birth and death

Often reminds us of each other.

cemetery 2