The Beech trees, Box turtles, spirits of the dead...with apologies to Theodore Roethke

The Beech tree sings in a light rain,
the dog has finally learned,
and the dead begin from their dark
to sing in my sleep.

The dog has finally learned
to leave the Box turtles alone
to sing in my sleep,
along with the whirr of the washing machine.

Leaving the Box turtles alone,
I visit the cemetery by day,
along with the whirr of the washing machine
as the lives of the dead begin to stir.

I visit the cemetery by day
listening to new voices
as the lives of the dead begin to stir
and write their stories down.

Listening to new voices,
as the dead begin from their dark
to write their stories down,
the Beech tree sings in a light rain.