Out for a morning walk

This is actually the woods behind the Frost Farm in Derry, NH. This was not the inspiration for this poem. 🙂

Out for a Morning Walk

My footfalls grate

on packed stone,

a long-gone bed

for train loads

too demanding for

these worn-out hills.

Here, a sky full of

bird talk – an owl,

a blue jay, a crow or two.

So many warnings,

a tension of tongues.

A river complains

on its way to dark places.

Earlier, I stirred names

of New England settlers

in a sinking cemetery.

Husbands next to wives:

Desire and Jebediah,

Hope and Abraham,

Julia and William.

Stones leaned back

and bowed forward.

No repose, no end

to the bickering.

Sometimes, even

a morning walk

can’t silence the din.