Just past these flowers, footsteps
Still and gray upon a morning
Wet with dew, a distant field,
That I, a careworn traveler explore.
One hundred and forty years,
The year my father’s grandfather was born,
And names carved on stone like
A class roll call.
A one, a mother and infant daughter,
Both dead in childbirth, says
“I heard a voice from heaven
saying unto me,
Write,
Blessed are the dead
which die in the Lord
from henceforth:
Even so, saith the Spirit,
that they may rest
from their labors”
To share is human:
One thought to “Georgia Places: Country Church”