Wolverine Stew: Graveyard Eclipse

I follow the path of quills and daffodils

Blue ground-facing stars and yellow suns

A spring soil night as the sky above

Turns dim, a growing grey

But a welcome one in place of

The gloom that has begun to break

And as I walk I see dozens of others

All with their glasses that turn the sun

Into a campfire crescent moon

Celebrating on every patch of grass

In the front lawns where

A cracked, plastic skeleton rests in a pile

I end up at the cemetery, fellow sky-gazers

Sitting amongst the headstones as

The trees begin to bud, robins rushing between them

Starry blue flowers sprouting beneath

As moss creeps across the polished names

And lichen-loved stones

Like faces and upturned mushrooms caps

And just in time I find a place

Where the branches part

Where I feel welcomed to sit beside the graves

Where the sounds of my eyelashes

Against the dark film that guards them

Sounds like rustling in the pinecones and dry leaves

And the chirp of birds reaches its crescendo

As that waning crescent almost gives way

Before waxing yet again

And I spend a few more moments

Planted in the grass

Before making my way out of the cemetery

I pick a direction, and on I go

Because as the sky brightens

There’s so many

White-winged moths, wolf spiders, cranes, colonies of ants

To spot along the path

And I hope to see them all

Before this day ends