I heard the owl cry.
The churchyard is close by
The dead weep not
In their little plot.
Only I heard him cry,.
Then found my temporary sleep.
The Owl
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Tag Archives: churchyards
The Wet Churchyard Earth
The wet churchyard earth
Speaks of nature’s rebirth.
The graveyard grass smells fresh.
I see life and death.
The Tombstones Stand Out White
The tombstones stand out white
In the sun’s light.
I wonder, as I go
Whether those now below
Lived their days in light?
And, when I go
Will those who pass
Along this path
Pause, and sigh,
And think as I?
More Often Than Not
More often than not
I stop
By the graveyard plot
Where a soft breeze
Rustles trees.
Yet, outside this spot
I hear it not.
On A Chilly Winter’s Evening
On a chilly winter’s night
The song of a bird
I heard
As he sang to me
From a churchyard tree.
Such delight,
And poignancy.
But that was in me.
Walking Home Alone
Walking home
Alone
At night
I see the passing street light.
I find
Neither fear nor delight
In the churchyard just
Left behind,
Merely dust
And fallen leaves.
The Delight Of Snow
The churchyard is shrouded in snow.
Trees stand stark against the white.
I know
The delight
Of snow
Graveyard
Often do I have cause
For thought, yet seldom pause
Here for long.
Perhaps it is a strong
Desire to forget my fate
Which leads me, (be it early or late),
Without a backward glance
Lest by some mischance
I see my own ghost,
To post-haste, exit the graveyard gate
And enter again
This temporary realm of men.
K Morris - Poet 