132. Idyll

The dog’s ashes work their way

deeper into the garden’s soil.

This season I walk alone

the dirt road winding into darkening

sky. The horses no longer

come to the fence, and the wind

keens, “Winter is coming on.”

The rising moon

rattles the dry grass,

and below, the dead

continue their long work.

— William Sheldon

William Sheldon lives with his family in Hutchinson, Kansas where he teaches and writes. His poetry and prose have appeared widely in small press publications, including Columbia, Epoch, Flint Hills Review, Prairie Schooner, and Midwest Quarterly. He is the author of two collections of poetry, Retrieving Old Bones (Woodley) and the chapbook Into Distant Grass (Oil Hill Press).


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