high off the ground. On the road,
small branches shed by the tree;
the bark on some has loosened
and come off with the passage
of the seasons, and the wood
is bleached out. A few of these
look like antlers. As I turn
to examine one of them
a funeral procession
passes -- black Cadillacs, then
a long line of every-day cars.
to the new cemetery
put in just beyond this farm --
the mourners preoccupied
matter-of-factly. I feel
like waving to them, but check
the impulse. The tree stands on
this thirty foot strip of ground
between the road and the fi eld;
beyond, now, is not only
the graveyard but new houses.
was silent, usually --
three or four cars going by