“Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze”

-after William Wordsworth

Mary entered the tomb and lay beside

her son. It was cold and the

stone slab unforgiving. Her eyes a lake

without end, the earth moaning beneath

her, ground fossils of ancient lives the

world forgot and turned to soil. Trees

stood high around the tomb, moths fluttering

and resting on the green leaves. Cocoons and

habits transformed. Once there had been dancing

and knowing in a small plot of forest in

a ripe season.  But now Mary sobbed. She loved the

Man, who grew and left softly, like a breeze.