A Grave
First you walk p the long narrow hill until you reach the ridge line. Then next to the Methodist church along the old highway you will reach the cemetery. Tired in the afternoon I wander among the tomb stones. A few are very old; one is new with fresh filled earth but still devoid of flowers.
Cemeteries seem to heighten my psychic energy. I will reflect on the headstones through them lies and days ahead. One name stands out, Fred Lucas, deceases April 16, 172 when he was a young man. The inscribed words are simple by clear. It says simply “Vietnam”. I cry and keep walking.
A Grave