Here, earth moves with the weather
winter shifts and cracks, freezes
and refreezes every surface
Outside the funeral home
a row of etched headstones
waits. On our walks,
we review the carved names
of over winter deaths
Across town, in the cemetery,
year after year moves through
and changes the marble landscape—
this spring, the statue of mother Mary
has shifted and now tilts forward
as if she is ready to leap
into the springtime air
Puff Of Smoke Poems 