“Gardens Souls digging and grieving Under spades so silver That outcast dawn. The earth becomes lighter Yet grows darker with each inch The shovel takes into the dirt. The white of the texture That once before touched our hands In innocence leaps into forgiveness. The grave is deep and uneven, Its lines are simply met with even words That haunt the living and haunt our worst. Purple shadows reckoning our streets, Leaving the darkness to sleep With a mantle of marble at least. The moon's line shows sorrow On hands that dig down far And reveal the things — that dawned on us before.” Winter PoetryShadows And LightEarth And SorrowHaunting WordsMarble MantlesMoonlit DespairMourning And ForgivenessReckoning And ReflectionSeasonal SolitudeUneven Graves Author:Laura Chouette