I like graveyards during the day;
I find them peaceful, not ghastly.
I like reading the headstones.
Some have sad epitaphs,
A child dead at age six,
Often with an angel on the headstone.
Some are so old you can barely read them;
The etched words worn away with the years.
I like finding old neglected graveyards in forests,
Symbolic of how nothing endures forever.
I find it exciting to see headstones from the 1800s,
Like finding a rare and nearly ancient treasure.
I don’t like graveyards at night.
Once, decades ago when
I lived near a small one
With a walking path in and out of it
To take a shortcut while jogging at night
I ran through it and felt so much fear
That I got goosebumps and felt
As if my hair would stand on end.
Bob Boyd