An Autumn Burial Poem by Albert Ahearn

A small crowd stood around the grave;
my presence being one of them.
With our heads bowed downward and our
Predominant, black and white clothes
We all resembled king penguins
in the early autumn morning.
The breeze increased and blew the brown
Dead maple leaves around our feet,
some aptly onto the casket
deep within the newly dug grave.
Other than the wind, the silence
Is deafening except for an
occasional cough from the group.
The eulogy begins “Here lies ….”