cold morning

Mornings are still chilly bordering on cold.

Hats, gloves heavy coats required.

We rise early, the dog and I.

He waits on his bed till I've had my coffee and checked my email.

Then he eats and out we go.

If the morning is like today, cloudless sun rising.

We head North East on our road.

We turn at Mayweather estates, a two home subdivision sometime in the future.

It's marked no trespassing but we don't care, besides Ben cannot read.

At the end of the cul-de-sac we wade through the prickers and brambles.

To the eastern most end of open space a long rectangular field that perhaps is hayed in summer.

We walk west Ben and I.

The sun at our backs, me casting a 30 foot shadow pointing the way west.

Ben's shadow trotting besides mine.

There is a small fieldstone cairn rocks balanced one atop another.

In the center of a small fieldstone patio. No more than 6 feet across.

This stonehedge rising there cold Maine granite, mysterious.

I pause there, silent, respectful while Ben nose to the ground scenting who has been to our field.

There is birdsong here, as the sun warms and wakes the choir.

We follow our shadow till the field ends in an apple orchard, or perhaps pears I cannot tell yet.

A small graveyard sits there, at the edge of the orchard.

Short stone pillars with 3 iron railing between each ring this small plot.

20 markers dot the ground, some simply a rock others formal covered with lichen or faded beyond legibility.

I pause here too, silent and respectful.