Gone Down in the Woods Today

Funeral procession moving slow through the undergrowth Pick my casket up to shoulder height. Bow your heads low Clutch your black skirt as the wind blows, howling through the stones Cover me with leaves, make us a home, before winter steals my bones Crush a flower with your heavy boot. Trample it under foot Lungs of chimneys explode with smoke, bathing us all in soot Have you seen the Mourning Cloak laying there by the roots? Hiding from the cold, never awoke, until it found you Sing the songs of days long ago Sing the familiar hymns Sing of your woes