The full moon rises on the prairies,
a glowing orb, shining upon the hilltop cemetery.
olden stones shimmering with light.
Here, we walk
on land from long ago,
above neighbors who have moved away
to someplace the train will not take us.
The hues of evening turn like leaves.
Night covers us in a blanket of darkness as we turn in from the cold.
The elegant breeze whispers soft and serene.
