The Recent And Long Dead Poem by Robert Ronnow

November is sweet, sunshine through bare trees, dry
      brown and fungus-free leaves companionably visiting
      among the dead
as I did yesterday our town's small graveyard military
      dads who recently died lie under polished stones
      embossed with actual photos of themselves and their
      wives flowers and plastic totems within a miniature
      picket fence overflowing with the emotions love and
      grieving of the living
beside or not far from simple wafer-thin old moss-
      covered stones on which I could not read the
      names.
Such peace I realized which may be found around any
      rock or tree has escaped me while I pursue my
      particular happiness and our particular war,
and such a blessing awaits me, too.