At a Poet's Grave

Above is a sky that is still as blue
The church is plain but in love adorned
Outside, through time, one who is still mourned
And yet some fields remain that you once knew

With simple flowers that the children strew
Country churchyard beneath the blazing sun
Amongst the neat graves we have come for one
Beneath the stone lies but one part of you

Your stone, on which thrush might smash a snail,
Your stone that says, “Poets are born not made”
Words live on even if dusty on shelf

Your stone so weathered by rain and gale
For when your immortal soul is weighed
That is a life eternal for yourself

Cardinal Cox wrote this during the period that he was Poet-in-Residence for the Broadway Cemetery in Peterborough (2005 – 2008).