Sehome Hill

by GJ Gillespie  

Wisps of fog

Hover and penetrate 

Evergreen fingers reaching 

like toddlers from cribs

Or children stirring sand

While tree trunks bend like patrons

To witness the ceremony

Standing in columns

The circle of faces 

Measure hour glass dust

Spilling into a pit in the woods

Solemn we cover with shovel 

The make shift grave
On the hill he loved

July 2016