Cross after cross after cross,
Stark and white and clean,
Row after row after row,
On a cushion of velvet green.
Sweet breezes blow and ruffle the grass,
Like a hand in a young man's hair,
The grass protests with gentleness,
Yet pleased by the soft ripple there.
A squirrel scoots through the hallowed place,
Like a hurried brush on a cheek,
Though, it takes on the warmth of a kiss,
When the squirrel finds what it seeks.
Chipmunks, too, are skittish near by,
And bunnies may hop on the ground,
They put one in mind of brown, teddy bears,
Once held in a small boy's arms.
The leaves blowing down from the trees
Are like blankets that warm in the night,
Cozily tucking weary souls in,
Else they cry out with fright.
Bright snow brings the glitter of winter,
Tiny icicles hang from each cross,
They melt like tears, as Christmas nears,
With childish thoughts of Santa Claus.
Flowers in spring - good reason to sing,
But no lilting sounds in this air,
March winds so strong, they sing their own song,
Lusty, raucously loud, and bare.
At night, a silence too loud to hear,
And a calmness too still for peace,
Then whispers are heard as if in a dream,
From souls forlorn and deceased.
Sleep on, fallen comrades,
You have earned your just rest,
Please know that your soul,
By God has been blest.
On a cross just like yours
His own precions Son died,
How honored you are
To now now sit at His side..
Cross after cross after cross,
Stark and white and clean,
Row after row after row,
On a cushion of velvet green.
Virginia (Ginny) Ellis
Copyright May 2003 ~ Revised May 2005
