Potter’s Field

Jutting from black soil
in regular patterns
Like the ancient teeth
of an unspeakable monster
Worn brick
and weathered mortar
Grass no one mows
in a garden no one weeds

Cracked stairs on a hillside
leading to nowhere
Faded inscriptions
on crumbling structures
The occasional visitor
kneeling in respect
by a narrow path

The setting sun
painting the horizon
as shadows grow long
A sense of the unknown
How could it not be?

Eventually the moon will rise
bathing the stones in pale light
and the dead will keep watch


Published by: jkmaxwell76

Hi everyone! My name is Keith. I am a lot of things: Traveler, sports fan, photographer, writer, music lover, trier of new recipes, humorist, avid reader, movie buff, poet, and more. All of these things will find their way into my blogs, so be prepared. Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy my ramblings!

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