In a Puritan Churchyard
In a Puritan Churchyard
By Daniel Rattelle
The snow has stopped
for now. I step
across old crust,
alone, I guess.
No cause to mourn,
the youngest stone
is Union dead,
we all know that.
And Iām no mourner ā
not anymore
but like the church
Iām waiting for March
and wearing thin
for snow. But then
how like a seed
it is to be buried.
Daniel Rattelle
Poet & Journalist
Photography by Luis Gonzales
Ekstasis Magazine