Afternoon showers
water plastic flowers.
We walk on sacred ground.
We walk on melded leaves and moss.
In a muddy corner
lurks a waterlogged wooden cross,
without a name engraved.
At centre stage
stands a godly marble cell,
sealed off to keep out the smell.
The stern churchyard bell
ushers us away
to meet the day,
and feel the way you do
when rain falls
from a cloudless sky.