Graveside Devotions

The sun was a welcome companion

on my daily circuit of the paths 

in our township’s lovely little park.

Across the road a cemetery’s rutted lanes

provide an alternate route to travel

between rows of graves both ancient and new.

As I traversed the park footpath

beside a flowing stream

crushed stones crunching beneath my feet

a car pulled into the graveyard

and came to a stop

a few car lengths from the road.

A man emerged and cautiously stepped

on the crusty remnants

of a recent dusting of snow.

Beyond the first row of stones

he did and about face and bowed his head.

I looked away out of respect for his private moment of grief or gratitude.

Following the turn of the trail,

I wondered whose memory brought him to that place:

wife or mother, father or brother, sister, co-worker, friend?

Then came to mind “all the saints

who from their labors rest”

whose lives brought blessings my way.