Walk in Gallupville

Walk

Snow falls in

big, wet flakes

which blanket the ground

and mute the noise.

Save for the swirling, whooshing wind

and the distant drone of cars.

I walk past the Honey House

along the gurgling brook,

whose waters rush over the smooth rocks.

I walk through an open cornfield,

old stalks peeking above

 the newly fallen snow.

I walk through the woods and up a hill,

which is difficult to climb in the slippery snow,

to a cemetary.

Empty and quiet in its absence of life

but fullness of its

 remanents of tombstones.

Some so old and covered in moss

you can't read the epitaphs.

Snow is picking up now,

though pockets of watery light

peer through the swollen sky.

Time to move on and keep walking.