Today I read David Whyte’s poem “First Steps in Hawkshead Churchyard,” and it reminded me of a visit my sister and I made to Holy Cross Cemetery last year, to the graves of my dad and brother. A tree was planted by my brother’s grave, and I saw this formation and took a picture:
Can you see it?
This little owl the tree made?
Nature lets us know
It’s always there
Always watching
Holding a space
For grief and release.
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