The lanes, leaf-littered, run in and out of light, the canopy of trees dribbling acorns and twigs, parting every now and then to reveal electric blue sky.
The cemetery houses known and unknown, even the famous, but it's the stones that name the living as well as the dead that deepen the shadows even further. A wife who will be buried there next to her husband, a mother who will join her daughter in a twin grave -- these cause me to linger, perhaps because I know the living who will join their dead one day.
But sky beckons, and I move out into light.
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