What Lori thought was song was tearless crying.
Eternity resisted the centuries long melody.
Reluctant, delicate ghosts flowed past us.
Small blooms appeared among the early grasses.
Lori stood at the edge of a hill
washed to an abrupt drop to a rocky creek.
All these generations later
clouds form above this gateway summoning.
The straw weave of our broad hats
netted loud notes of longing.
copyright © 2023 Kenneth P. Gurney
Umflop 