the trees stand leafless around me
cold sentries, quiet ……
the grass lies silent beneath the snow
and the sky hangs heavy

the sun’s light peaks
through the hills bristly ridge
tracks pock the ground
earlier visitor’s, now gone

and the valley poses with out a sound
a tin-type portrait
a frozen road leading somewhere
traveler’s gone or not yet come

frosty air turns my breath to fog
lays sharp on my ears and neck
the world , clear and hushed
in submissive sleep

in this solitude I stand
my father, lying beneath the earth
whispering of what is unseen
but yet to come

his headstone stands
an end of a generation
a last entry in the family line
to be followed in time by me