IT ALWAYS  AMAZES  ME  HOW  THE  COLD,  IRON   GATES OF  WOODLAWN CEMETERY BECKONS

AS  WE  PASS  BY  THE  GRAY,  BLEAK,  STONE  MAIN  OFFICE,  THE MAUSELEUMS  GREET  US  ON  THE  RIGHT.

BUT  THEN,  WE  SEEMINGLY  ENTER  ANOTHER  WORLD,  ALMOST  LIKE

WE  ENTERED HEAVEN  ITSELF!

FOR  HERE,  IN  THIS  MORBID  PLACE,  WHERE  DECAYING  BONES  AND FLESH  LIE  JUST  A  FEW  FEET  BENEATH  US,  SPRING  HAS  SPRUNG!

THE  BRIGHT,  CRISP  COLORS  OF  THE  CHERRY  BLOSSOMS  AND  PEAR TREES,  STAND  PROUDLY  IN  FRONT  OF  THE BROOKSIDE  MAUSELEUM.

THE  BLUEJAYS  AND  THE  ROBINS  CHIRP  INCESSANTLY,  AS  WE  CATCH THE  ECHO  OF  THE  BABBLING  STREAM,   MEANDERING  DOWN  THE

HILL  TOWARD  THE  ROAD.

ONE  WONDERS  IF  THE  THOUSANDS OF  SOULS  BURIED  HERE,   ARE TELLING  THEIR LIFES’  STORIES — THRU  ALL THIS  CHATTER ,

AS  YET  ANOTHER  SPRING  BURSTS  FORTH  IN  ALL  IT’S  VIBRANCE!

_______________________

J.L. Lobel   9.5.2015

Arts on The Lake  Writer’s Group