Blush Of Pink

Winter sleeps in the grass
the reflecting pool is low
barren trees flank
the graveyard road
a blush of pink
to grayish green
whispers from the branches

A glance while driving
on a high traffic street
a green tent shelters
another rectangular cavity
cleanly cut from the earth
no shovel or work gloves
no pile of dirt can be seen

The stage is ready
someone's corpse will arrive
rows of cars with headlights beaming
solemn men in dark suits
a polished hearse gleaming
parked by a green carpet
leading to the tent

In the surrounding field
faded plastic flowers
perpetually droop
staking plots of time
the deceased grow fainter
their spirits do not compete
earthly positions are forgotten

Those spirits transform
in breaths of wind
coursing with migrating birds
they become spring
forcing buds to swell in the living
pulsing with blood
a blush of pink

Gregory Zeorlin 3/4/2004  8:30am
Copyright 2012 Gregory Zeorlin