The Rector And The Raven

Gray moss hung like soiled laundry from reaching branches of an old oak tree.

A cooing wind whispered and crawled on invisible fingers through the cemetery.

The rector sat in silence at the foot of an ancient monument carved in stone.

A raven nearby rustled his wings and cried…”worthy is he, worthy are his bones”.

The rector smiled a little and starred blank into the approaching dusk.

The wind fell silent and forest smells mingled decay to a sighing dust.

Hope and future dreams softly vanished with this the fleeing sun.

The rector fell prostrate at the base of the giant stone…

The raven cried once more; “Oh worthy is he, oh worthy are these, his bones.”

J. Allen Wilson © 1-2008