At a Country Graveyard in Washington County

A nesting chipping sparrow
enters a juniper.
Small insects hop
underfoot in the drying sod.

The German farmers here
died in their own language.
On headstones,
only the years make sense.

Along the road,
a trail of snapped-off butterflies;
like unmoored sailboats,
their fading, ragged wings

draw tight
and tilt in the breeze,
shards of a summer prayer
that never got heard.

Copyright © 2006 James Silas Rogers All rights reserved
from Sundogs
Parallel Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission