The cemeteries are crowded with scattered monuments between the stones, small tokens of memories in the grass. They won't survive as long as the markers, more easily weathered, broken down and beaten by winter. These are lifelike daydreams going on out here, no less alive today than tomorrow. Yesterday is out of reach, never too late to be dog's best friend. I like the silence of a stony stare, get low and wonder what the sculptor behind you was feeling in the moment. Countless thousands from the same mold, I'm sure, and you're just one of them. Individuality of inanimate objects surrendered to nature, time and wear and weather makes the difference. Like everything, the emotion we offer brings the meaning. It's so cold, so cold, warm as my heart makes me.
December 7, 2019
Whitman Cemetery
South WIlliamston, Nova Scotia
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