Joyce Chelmo - Resting Place

Among the birches
in a field away from man,
is a small grave yard
holding my history
like pages of a
dusty novel.

So much of my family
rests there from
the first settler
to my younger brother.

The grave yard
is not a sad place for me,
when I think of the
quiet walks holding
my fathers hand,
as he introduced me
to my roots.

He rests there now
among the family he
held so dear.

Among the birches
a quiet peaceful place
down a dusty road,
off the busy highway;
where you hear
songs of birds,
a rippling creek,
the ghosts of history.

Joyce Chelmo

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/resting-place/