Ohio Steeples

The Garden of People

The tranquil winds murmur beneath the church steeples,
Bending grass blades in grief, over gardens of people.

Each furrow's well-tended,irrigated with tears,
Every plot's marked by stones, with the names,and the years,

Here lies: Daisy and Rose, there is Poppy and Mum,
Near a Jack-In-The-Pulpit, now resting his tongue,

Here lies: Babies-Breath wilted, and nearby Sweet William,
Oh, how Holly and Heather's cheeks, once glowed Vermillion,

Here's Veronica, Lily, Alfalfa and Hazel,
Near Olive, and Myrtle, Timothy and Sweet Basil,

Belladonna, and Rose, Marguerite, and dear Iris,
Near a Wandering Jew, who was felled by a virus,

There's Violet,and Ginger, here's Pepper and Jasmine,
Over Solomon's seal, Bleeding Hearts mourn what has been,

Here Wormwood surrounds each Old-Man-In-The-Spring,
Bugleweeds blow out taps, Birds-Of-Paradise sing,

Walk softly frail mortals, with your Bittersweet thoughts,
Where Bluebells toll silent, over Forget-Me-Nots,

For whatever men plant in the depths of Earth's womb,
God will soon resurrect, and again they may bloom,

Thus the winds murmer gently beneath the church steeples,
Over harvests forthcoming, in the gardens of people.

Matthew Frederick Blowers III