What is a Cemetary?

What is a cemetary after Halloween?
When the pipe cleaner spiders are gone.
What is it then, if not an empty field,
The ground a swollen and pockmarked front lawn?

What is a cemetary on a gray December day?
When across the lake, the mountains tower and steam?
What is it now, when I am alone
And the silence swallows as it dreams?

What is a cemetary in the gray and the cold?
When the trees are dead and dying
What is it at dusk, when the voices whisper
"We're trying, we're trying, we're trying"?

What is a cemetary on my afternoon walk?
When it's been more than empty all along
What is it except for a brown-grass morgue
And the place where the wind sings its song.