28 NOVEMBER, Polish Cemetery, Saltines

I move on, shuffling a block through brick-red leaves scattered over sidewalks, then head up the hill and circle the perimeter of the Polish cemetery, catch sight of a woman 40-ish I’ve seen there before, today sitting in the grass, serene, a cup of coffee in her hand, two headstones at her feet (mother and father, I’d guess), letting her thoughts slip away to the two by her feet, who catch every soft and tender wind-drift word,

maybe……