Cemetery in August


Lean against the warm van
waiting for the others
to return from a grave.
Cotton ball clouds roll
across the blue sky above.
Afternoon tree shadows
trembling on grass.

A hundred yards away
the freeway traffic
never ceases
its preoccupied din.
Trucks with tedious loads,
wrangling families headed out,
and most cars going
nowhere in particular.

In the cemetery
a raised reservoir
with two watering cans
is there for those
who remembered
to bring real flowers.

Waiting by the van,
you glimpse a sign
beside a white sidewalk
Caution: Open Graves.

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