Sonnet to a Forest Home
Randy Hude

The gravestones strewn by Nature’s random whim,
Hearty trees sprouting darkness in day,
A harmony looms lightly, an ethereal hymn;
Minds ponder Fate in this burial-place.
Attempt we to leave through magical arts,
Forgetting at once the natural course,
That none may escape this funeral march,
Try as we might, there is no recourse.
Though the stones have divorced the names
And the flesh been devoured by earth,
Because their angelic ballad remains,
Wandering souls discover a festive hearth.
Between these dark trees sable spirits roam,
Maintaining eternally this forest home.