Buried
Snow and Resurrection
Buried
Buried between my finger and thumb
My pencil rests
Eraser worn as much as the lead.
Working both ends, led like
A frantic candle of perfection.
As a kid rain was God’s tears
My back sore at fifty
From shoveling frozen tears
That Date puts in hell.
By God, the old man can handle a spade.
Just like his old man.
Cutting through the frozen turf
Cutting through the noise.
Suspended rain dancing
A silent disco dance.
The scrape of the Road.
The scrape of dirt on a tiny
Coffin sounds the same.
Winter brings death
Hope buried
Under frozen tears
Awaiting resurrection.
Buried between my finger and thumb
My pencil rests in imperfection
Trusting in His.