Pine Mountain Cemetery IX
Walk over the brow and down a bit to find
A wend of grapevines, old, strong standing
Over the narrow valley like an overlook.
Johnny, now resting just behind us broke
His arm and still swung all day, for one
Never knew when the vine would tire and sag
Stealing all the fun of that one ride. Fire
Beds between rock rings still smell of
Marshmallow, mustard and Hershey bar.
Sky so bright stars became our blanket
Against the swoop of cold air running
Down the face of our Pine Mountain.
Was it one summer or two before we raced
Into the dreamed for future we thought so dear?
Johnny died a spy caught in a foreign land.
The rest of us scattered to places not so
Scary, but never near the rock rings that wished
For our return for a swing on waiting vines.