In the Garden of Stone

(a poem in tanka prose)

In the stone garden
Morning mist covers the ground,
And the autumn chill
Slowly changes the green leaves
To red, gold and fading brown.

Sentinel angels,
Winged seraphs ever watchful,
Guard tiny treasures,
Precious memories that sleep
Beneath the garden’s green grass.

Dark granite headstones,
Damp with the dew of morning,
Salted by the tears
Of mourning, staid reminders
Of passing age and ages.

The dayspring bird songs
Herald the warmth of sunlight
And banish the night
With a new day that declares
Life in the garden of stone.

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2 thoughts on “In the Garden of Stone

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