_Then red trees turned barer by each afternoon
like a bruise disappears and mice empty the silos,
vermin also enter the libraries gnawing on books.
I drove the road under shadows of the dying corn
to the rain and family gravestones.
The faith was tried by ordeal of water
as I wore the same clothing and bone
afraid for the woman and girl who come visit me.
And the mulled wine and apples colored the sky
like them I am widowed and childless.
I rubbed the epitaphs to make a name for myself
when the chapel owl took flight like a giant moth.
11/29/2011 12:29:12 pm

Another great poem. Thanks for sharing it on this site.

11/29/2011 12:40:03 pm

This one stuck the gut to devastating proportions. Its emotion is raw and powerful.

11/29/2011 12:59:49 pm

Fantastic one, John!

11/30/2011 03:50:56 am

What lovely imagery! The words invoke so much feeling and tone. It's also a bit enigmatic without being too much so. I like it!

Sandy Benitez
11/30/2011 04:33:33 am

So many good lines in this poem. The imagery captured me from the first line and as usual, I couldn't stop reading.

Kevin Ridgeway
12/5/2011 10:18:34 am

I've become quite the fan of John Swain. A wonderful poem.

9/10/2013 10:58:28 pm

This is the title poem of John Swain's new book, just published by Crisis Chronicles Press: http://press.crisischronicles.com/2013/09/10/rain-and-gravestones---by-john-swain-cc45.aspx

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