0180 Let Sleeping Dogs Lie Comments
At the far edge of the expanding cemetery
in its uncertain spiritual limbo,
its small gravestones re-emerge only in late summer
like a clipped coat, the tall grass annually machined; of
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Every time I visit our cemetries, and where I am they are arid and dry, I think the dead don't lie here... they lie in the memories of the people who miss them. As usual your poem gives me much to think about.
i've noticed a pattern of exceptional poems from the writers of the British Isles. this continues that pattern. enjoyed the rabbit stuff - and the punchline at the end was bold and profound.
Michael, I can't even begin to think about the message here, I'm just swimming in these rich, delicious words! ! Beautiful writing. Regards, Gina.
Dear Michael: A lovely poem, here. The sense of connectedness and intercommunication amongst all species is a wonderful thought and so much gets lost in the translation because we, arrogant humans, fail to listen and give proper attention. Best, Hugh
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7/21/2025 5:25:29 PM # 1.0.0
Beautiful poem, Michael. Lovely imagery. There might need to be some occasional squirrels around, too. -chuck