Midday Among the Stones

Midday sun and a cemetery. Not the textbook combination certainly, but I went anyway. Not because the light was ideal, but because that’s when I was there.

Walking through a cemetery in the middle of the day, the light is blunt and unromantic. Nothing is softened; it isn't cinematic. Every crack, every patch of lichen, every letter carved is exposed.

It's honest.

It's real.

Midday doesn’t hide anything. It shows age plainly.

Memory after the last visit.

Color against winter grass.

Stone holding light.

Brief lives, lovingly and carefully carved. Time unwinding.

Dignity framed in stone.

Love, in bright repetition.

A hand raised in permanence.

Small within the landscape.

As time keeps growing.

Quietly inscribed, quietly kept.