Autumn graveyard
Creeping brambles
Tawny grasses
Half obscuring
Weathered tombstones
Scudding cumulus
Burst of sunshine
Lighting death dates
Year, month, and day
Hilltop graveyard
One room schoolhouse
Inn and churchyard
Hamlet spread out
Down below
Settlers’ green bones
Slowly seeping
Through the soil
They called their own
Old-world graveyard
Back to nature
All must follow
Feeding roots of
Oak and maple
Sinking softly
Joined in union
Spirits rising
Salt of the earth
There is an old graveyard near my home. It sits atop a hill surrounded by a hamlet dating back to the 18th century. The one room schoolhouse and church are a stone’s throw away. The parsonage, inn, and farmhouses are spread out at the foot of the hill. A dull school child could watch the gravedigger at work across the road. The journey from farmhouse, to church, to graveyard—a small triangle.
Many of the tombstones have been wiped clean by wind and rain. Those that are legible show a curiosity: Death dates meticulously recorded to the month and day, but no birth dates. The school mistress would only have to lead her pupils in a straggly line across the road and up the hill to impart a math lesson: If Mr. Walling died on March 30th, 1860, aged seventy-five years, eight months and fifteen days, on what day was he born?
Melissa Shaw-Smith 
Excellent poetry and photography! Bravo, Melissa!
Thanks for the feel-good moment, Fabio.
Well deserved, Melissa! Have a great weekend! 🙂
I walk through graveyards and read names aloud. I find it a comforting practice.
I’m not sure about comforting–but fascinating, definitely!
What I find comforting is giving the name a voice. I feel some kind of tenuous approval. It’s also a great way to collect names for characters that might appear in what I write. The oddest was when I had the opportunity to say my own name aloud: James Richard Stewart. It was a surprise and, I must admit, did not feel very comfortable.
That must have been a bit creepy. I do the same thing–look for character names. I often wonder about the stories attached to each headstone.
Drawing that straight line from math to death.
Ah, you’ve uncovered my dark secret.
Beautifully done, Melissa. Great mood and pace to your writing and the photos just gently follow your words or maybe the other way around. The math lesson is always present. I also like old graveyards and cemeteries and there are some really nice ones here where I live.
Jose, thank you. Your photos are so evocative–I’d love to see some of your graveyard shots
I love the photos of the graveyards.
Thanks!
Liked the math to death line too! So that’s your dark secret! Good to know! 😉
Wonderfully atmospheric words and pix, Melissa. A sort of Edgar Allan Poe with sunshine 🙂
Thanks, Tish. Love that line–Poe with sunshine!
Great write!
Glad you enjoyed it.
This has a beautiful rhythm to it. Though it isn’t part of the poem, I like the dull school child.
Thanks, Burl. I’m scared of rhyme, but I love rhythm.