Waves upon Waves
This early, sun-draped Saturday afternoon,
We relax atop a tattered quilt
Spread on December's yet-green grass
Gracing the grounds around the marble headstone
Of your late husband, Capt. James C. Moore,
In Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery,
Amidst waves upon waves of graves,
Combers rolling inexorably shoreward —
Souls of veterans flowing home, toward God.
This eighth anniversary of Jim's demise
Has delivered us to these hallowed hills,
Leading to the Mississippi River's limestone bluffs.
You and I and his soul form a trinity of one,
A coalescence of mutually transcendent love,
He your husband of thirty years,
Adoptive father of your three sons,
I late-life guardian of your heart's heritage,
Sharer of your future — our unknown sojourn.
Now, twilight invites the deer from hiding.
Under Jim's name, we tie a Christmas wreath
Surmounted by pine cones and a crimson ribbon,
Then select five rocks, from the service road,
Lay them atop his stone, whisper our benedictions.
Silently folding our quilt,
Knowing our presence has been reciprocated,
We walk back to the car, holding hands,
Buoyed by the numinous waves.
12/03/11
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